In Another World
by ArawnHunter
Summary: The demigods didn't manage to defeat the Giants in Athens. Instead, the Giants defeated the Olympians and captured one of their most valuable demigods. In a vain attempt to rescue him, they lose him and her through a black hole. They woke in another place, a country in line with the Earth Mother. Pres. Snow works for her and plans on making their life utter hell for her pleasure.
1. Prologue

**Lol, I know, I'm not even done with one and I already want to start another. BUt, this wont be like the others, I'll update when I can and when I want to update, which is less than I'm doing for Ageless Diversity. If, by any chance, you read that fanfic, the expect the next chapter by the end of next week, you can quote me on that, bcs** ** _I am_** **working on it. I'm trying really hard.**

 **This, this is smth that I have started like, before I started Ageless Diversity or somewhere quickly after, so, the first chapters are going to be of...a crappy quality. I've gone back and fixed what I could, but here it is.**

 **It might not make any sense whatsoever at the beginning, and look crappy or whatever, only thing I ask is to read on and think about it from there. This is connected to the Giant War, it's connected and...read on to know more:**

 **.**

 **X-X-Part 1-Prologue-X-X**

 **...**

When she woke up, the first thing she felt was the sense as if someone was hammering down on her brain. She felt something soft under her and she knew she was on a bed, chattering was going on around her which did not help her headache.

She scowled deeply as she sat up, bringing a hand at the spike of her headache.

"Oh, no, no, no," a woman's voice said as she came over, wearing what one would say was a nurse's outfit.

The teenager's eyes focused on the woman coming towards her and the surroundings, she was stoic to realize she recognized neither.

Where did she end up?

"You've had quite the concussion," the woman said. "It's better if you stay laying low." She helped the girl lay back on the bed.

"Who are you?" her voice was raspy and hollow as it came out.

The woman grabbed a towel and dumped it into a bucket of water. "I'm Martha Cowell," she introduced herself. She plucked the soaked towel from the bucket, strained it, and then placed it on top of the girl's head.

"Where am I?" her voice was more confused, and there was panic in it.

Martha nodded to herself. "They said you wouldn't know," she said. "I wonder why–"

"Who's they?" the girl asked as she pushed the fresh towel away and sat back up defiantly. She searched her sides only to find her dagger missing. "Where am I?" she asked, panic starting to grip her.

"Panem," Martha said at last. "District six."

The teenager was now standing. "Where is that? America? Europe?"

But the nurse only seemed confused at those names. "Panem is what's left."

"No," the girl said. "That's not true, I come from San Francisco."

"San Francisco? What are you talking about?"

The girl saw a knife –a butter knife– sitting on a plate a few paces away from her, she eyed it hungrily. "Where am I?"

"District six," Martha said, staring to get panicky herself. "Transportation."

"And who's 'they'?"

"Peacekeepers! The Capitol!"

That did not help her. "What the Hades are peacekeepers? And which capital, of which country?"

When the nurse didn't respond the girl pushed past her, and when she felt a hand grab her arm she grabbed the butter knife and held it threateningly in front of her. "Stay away."

"You're not supposed to go out."

But she didn't listen to that. She yanked her arm free of her grasp and made a run for it. She passed beds with sick and wounded people, nurses tending to them but she didn't stop. Instead she kept running towards what she hoped was the exit.

She then saw two big glass doors and she didn't hesitate to barge through them and into the streets.

The rain hit her first, then she saw her surroundings. People dressed in different shades of grey were walking the streets, others had stopped to look at her. Armed men dressed in white armour marched in twos here and there. The buildings looked old and non-developed, like one of the less economically developed countries in the East. The worst part, she didn't recognise any of it.

Her heart rate began to quicken and her breathing hitched ten fold, she frantically started looking around herself, picking up more than just a few stares.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to recall what had happened. But she couldn't remember anything apart from this blinding light, they were sent colliding into nothing– 'they'?

It was then she noticed for the first time that she was alone. She was never alone. Her eyes snapped open and she looked around herself, looking for him. He wasn't there. She barged back through the doors of the hospital, her eyes scanning every corner of the room in front of her, and the one after that, until she was back in the room where she had woken up.

She spotted Martha and in one quick motion she had the nurse pinned against the wall at knife point. "Where is he?" she yelled at her face.

The other nurses in the room had stopped and where now looking at the girl with weary eyes and clear fear in their expressions.

"I don't–"

"Tell me what you've done to him!" she yelled again, the knife starting to scrape her neck, the girl was tempted to try to stab her, see if this butter knife would be able to kill.

"Miss Chase," a deep and snake like voice said from behind her, one which was unfamiliar but yet sounded dangerous to her.

She knew what she had to do next. As she turned she grabbed Martha's shoulder and in one quick move the girl was looking were her back had been pointed at moments before, Martha in a chokehold-grip in front of her.

"Who are you?" she asked the unknown man as she pressed the tip of the knife at Martha's neck.

The elderly man chuckled softly. Two white guards stood by his side, their guns aimed and trained on her. "I'm President Snow," he greeted her. "And I'm sure we've got lots to talk about."

"That depends on wether I'm the one asking the questions," she said, her eyes piercing, but yet the older man didn't waver.

"I'm afraid that's not the case," he responded with a grin.

She gave him her own smirk. "Well then we've got nothing to talk about."

The bullet travelled faster than the sound was heard, then the girl was holding nothing but a dead woman in her arms as her bullet wound bled. Her eyes widened in shock as she set the woman who had tried to help her down on the ground. She merely noticed the horrified shrieks and faces of the nurses and patients in the room, but most of her concern was on the man in front of her.

"You just killed her," she said obviously. "In cold blood. What did she do to you?"

"We've got a lot to talk about," President Snow repeated. Then he spoke over his shoulder of one of the Peacekeepers. "Clear the area, and wait outside of this room."

The two Peacekeepers soon led everyone out of the room and the teenage girl was left alone with the snake.

President Snow was slow and took his time to sit down on of the chairs, motioning for her to sit in the one in front of him, and then taking out a folded piece of paper from inside his coat and handing it to her.

She unfolded it carefully, afraid of what it might be in a way, even though she knew a piece of paper wasn't going to outright harm her in any way, but the contents might.

Her eyes stayed set on the image on it for a minimum of twenty seconds before she responded to it, by blinking. It displayed a drawing, or more like a symbol, the one of the Earth Mother. A lady with her arms raised and folded up on herself, two crescent moons on either side of the waist. A spiral in the space between her hips.

She folded the paper and handed it back to the President. "You're working with her," she stated, and it wasn't a question.

"You could say that," Snow agreed, not even trying to deny the fact. "She's unhappy–"

"I couldn't care less!"

"–with both of you."

Her eyes returned piercing. "Where is he?"

"District five," he said immediately. "Far from here, you won't be able to reach him."

"What is this place?" she opted into asking.

He chuckled, but there was no humour to it, only disgust. "Panem. A capitol and twelve districts."

"You had that woman killed, why?"

"You were threatening her to get to me," he said easily. "I had to show you that there is no such thing that you can do, her death is on you."

"No," she said. "It's not, you had her killed. I didn't kill her–"

"Enough, of this, childish feelings," he dismissed. "Now here's what you need to know..."

He told her about the founding of the system, about the dark days, and how the Hunger Games were founded at last, she didn't ask questions, not until the very end.

"You expect me to play in these games?" she asked him.

And there it was again, that chuckle that seemed to satisfy him whereas it only made her uncomfortable. "Oh, no, I simply expect you to play when your name is reaped during the reaping."

"And what if we're not reaped in the next two years? What if we turn nineteen and we've still not...suffered from those games? Will you let us go back to our normal life."

"When the time comes you'll see," he said. "And be sure to know that the world you knew before is long gone. Mother Earth's influence has spread in that country of yours."

She didn't waver. "Doesn't mean it'll last. Because with us, or without, she'll go back to sleep."

"That's your opinion," Snow said as stood up. "But I'm running late now. It's been a pleasure, Annabeth Chase."

She couldn't say the same for herself. She watched from the window as he got inside his private jet with a weird symbol on the side, which she presumed was the Capitol's emblem, and then fly away in the West.

As soon as the small jet was out of sight and very far away she got to work. She found a small bag with a cross in a cupboard at the end of the room and she knew it would suffice. She raised the cupboard for medicines which she knew she'd need if she were to live on her own for a while, like paracetamol and other painkillers along with disinfectants and whatnot.

By the time she was done raiding the cupboard the nurses started coming back inside helping their respective patients, they cast her some glances but none paid good attention to her, so she was able to slip out of the room with no problems.

She shouldered the bag and walked confidently through the hospital corridors, she stopped in front of the doors leading outside only to contemplate wether what she was wearing would suffice her days in the wild to come. Jeans, an orange t-shirt and a waterproof jacket. Heck yeah.

Annabeth confidently walked through the streets of District six until she reached the market. Here she would buy all the rest of the supplies she'd need. Luckily she quickly found the place and entered the small kitchen utensil shop, she wasn't half way in when she realised she didn't have any money, but maybe she could trade some of the extra medicines she had stolen for what she needed to buy.

She immediately walked over to the knifes section and was disappointed when she saw that the best they had were meat cleavers. They'd have to do, she guessed. Better those than nothing.

She picked two up and walked over to the shop owner and showed them to him. "I'll trade morphing and disinfectants for these two," she said, showing that she meant it.

"Show," the vender said.

Her eyes didn't leave his as she brought the medicine-full bag in front of her and showed him various vials of both morphing and alcohol.

He nodded his head as he read the writings on the sides of the products. "They're all yours."

Annabeth grabbed the two meant cleavers, stuffed them in the bag, zipped it shut and left the shop without saying another word.

Now, all she had to do was figure out where the hell District five was, find him, and get the hell out. Sounded easy like that, but to be sure, she wasn't sure wether she'd be able to make it out of District six.

But she had to try, didn't she?

She owed it to him, she owed him everything, and if this was in any way a fraction of the payback, then she wouldn't hesitate. It wasn't only because she owed him, but because she was already starting to feel his missing presence by her side, she was starting to miss it, and it was starting to hurt. They couldn't be separated, not again, she'd be damned before she let anything like what happened before happen again.

After what seemed like hours she reached a fenced gate that overlooked the wild, President Snow had told her that there were miles of wild between each district, making so the twelve fractions were as divided as they could be with no means of communication.

She knew she was going west, and she knew that as well as she knew it was the same direction as the Capitol. Did she care? No. Because it was a start and as they had talked she had gotten an idea of how the whole of Panem was set out, where the Districts were and she was rarely sure this was the right way. And if she was wrong she was damned.

The barb wired fence emitted a consistent hum that signalled electricity running through it, but Annabeth had already thought about that. She opened the bag and brought out the rubber gloves that nurses and medics use that she had found back at the hospital and put them on both her hand and the handle of her cleaver.

With one defying stroke she slashed at the barbed wire and she wasn't surprised when a signal went off near by. She didn't have the time to pack everything back in the bag. Quickly she made her way through the hole she had made as she saw Peacekeepers staring to run towards her. She grinned as they started to fire bullets but none coming even relatively close of her.

She sprinted towards the woods with gunfires raining behind her until she was inside too deep for them to even see her. But even then, she kept on running because her life might as well be depending on it.

-.-.-

It was days later that she got into big, big trouble.

She'd managed to hunt a few roosters, find water sources as she progressed in her quest and pick berries which were not poisonous even though she hadn't been fully sure about that. All in all she thought she was doing fairly well, considering she was on her own, in a place which was totally unfamiliar, possibly haunted by 'Capitol' people and she didn't know what else.

But she'd been stupid to not see a little fact, to not notice it, to not feel it.

A tracker in her right forearm.

She'd realised once she had tried resting her head on her arm, she had felt this bump and this little tingling sensation beneath her skin. After observing it she'd come to the conclusion that it was indeed a tracker, what else could it have been.

It wasn't long before they arrived. Loud jet engines set in a clearing that was pretty close to her, armed men in white came out and started searching in all directions, she had run, but she was outnumbered and they knew where she was going. No time to try to pry it out of her arm.

She'd fought against them, even killed one, but they had guns, she had cleaver knifes. She was shot in the shoulder and then in the leg. Hands grabbed her own and cuffs were slid on. She was half carried half led back to the jet where a very impatient and angry President was waiting for her. They'd locked her in a room with him after they took the two bullets out and applied pressure to the wounds.

So there she sat, her hands cuffed in front of her on a desk, President Snow sitting on the other side.

"I should have expected this," he said. "Really, Gaea had warned me. ' _They won't yield easily_ '."

Annabeth didn't respond to that.

"I'd kill you, to make an example," he continued. "But Gaea has clearly said, don't kill them, unless they're in the games, then let them watch each other die." He shifted in his seat and leaned in over the table. "Do you know, that now, because of your little...adventure, your boyfriend will be paying harshly for it."

This got her to speak. "No!" she said. "It was me, not him. He had nothing to do with it."

"I know," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But he will be paying so that I can keep you in check. The chances that he'll be in the next games–" He made a motion with his hand. "–increased ten fold. He'll be lucky to not be picked."

"No, please," she said. "Don't."

"Then swear to me, that you won't try another one of these stunts again," he told her. "And then, your boyfriend will have the same chance of being in the games as anyone else in his district."

She was glaring at him. "I swear I won't try something like this again." When he didn't waver she sighed before adding, "on the River Styx."

He stood up, a smile gracing his lips. "That's good enough. You'll be brought back to District Six and please, try to not burn it to the ground."

-.-.-

So she was brought back to District six, and when she did she had everyone stare at her. She shrugged it off and ended up sitting by the pond, looking East, opposite to where she had been going before.

Her eyes set on the water as it reminded her of him, of her Seaweed Brain which she was already missing really much. She pulled her legs close to her chest and set her head on her knees, hugging her legs wither arms, her eyes watching the cripples in the water as the wind blew on it.

It could have been days before someone joined her, sitting down next to her, not her offering any sign of wanting to communicate, and she wasn't about to change that.

They sat there, watching the water like she had been for the previous days, for hours and hours, until the person next to her cracked.

"So what's your name?" he asked, she was sure it was a him.

She turned to look at him, a young teenager, younger than herself, dressed in fine clothes, with blonde hair much like hers, and blue eyes. Altogether he reminded her of a dear friend of hers, Jason Grace, just without the scar on his lip.

"Annabeth," she said slowly.

"No surname?" he asked and when she didn't give any he smiled. "Well, I'm Jacob Lewis. But my friends call me Jake." His hand stretched out towards hers in greeting.

It took her a moment to understand she was meant to shake it. When she did his smile widened. "So, in case you were wondering," he started as he kept hold of her hand and pulled her to her feet albeit with her reluctance. "You've been here for two days, and even I know that's not healthy, so how about you come over to my house, grab some food and then we can help you find a place to sleep."

"I want to stay here," she said numbly.

He chuckled. "Yeah, no. You're going to get sick if you stay here much longer. Believe me, you don't want to get sick, not in the Districts."

She knew he was right, it's be very unlucky of one got sick in the Districts. "I don't belong here," she said.

Again, he chuckled, but it was more to mask his uneasiness than anything else really. "Well, the first step in belonging, is letting others know your name."

"Annabeth Chase," she told him. "That's my full name."

"It's a very nice name," he said to her. "Unusual and nice... So how about the food I was offering you."

She shook her head. "I don't want to be of annoyance for your parents."

"Oh no, don't worry," he told her. "They were the ones to tell me to get you. My father's the mayor of the District. Trust me, we've got more then we need."

She looked at him with hollow eyes. "I can't accept that," she said. "I need to pick myself up on my own, get my own food."

"But you don't have a home, a house–"

"I do, actually." Her voice was so low, so...broken. "In San Francisco. My father he's probably–" her knees buckled from beneath her as she thought about her father and how worried they could be, her thoughts then brought her to the fact that Gaea was winning, and by the time she would manage to get out of this Panem, they could be dead, gone. "My family, they're going to die if we don't help them."

"What are you talking about?" Jake asked her as he crouched down next to her.

"She's going to kill them all." She wasn't looking at him and he had no idea what she was talking about. "They're all going to die."

He waved a hand in front of her eyes. "No ones going to die!" he told her. "Why do you think that?"

Her eyes focused on him. "You know better than I do that the Hunger Games kill twenty three children every year. So don't lie." Her voice dropped. "They're going to kill him," she said as if she'd just realised something. She looked at him. "Snow's going to kill him because of me."

"What? He's gonna kill who?"

"Percy...Jackson."

Jake made a face. "Who?"

Her eyes seemed to clear, the colour in her face to drain. "Perseus Jackson, a hero."

And before she could give a reply she was succumbed into darkness.

-.-.-

She was nuts, Jake gave her that. He didn't waste his time dwelling on that, instead, he slipped one arm under her knees, and one behind her back and using his strength he picked her up and started to walk back home.

When he got there he was welcomed by his mother's preoccupied questions of what had happened and why she was unconscious. He told he what they said to each other as he set her on one of the beds and checked her forehead for a fever. He wasn't surprised to feel her warmer than she should be.

"She's sick, isn't she?" his mother asked him.

He nodded and the two family members started working on helping the demigoddess heal and cool up.

-.-.-

When Annabeth came to again she was laying in a much more comfortable bed than she had been the first time. Yet her surroundings weren't familiar and neither was the smell of whatever the perfume was.

She mildly remembered the boy she had met by the pond, and his offer and she came to the quick conclusion that she must have blacked out and that she was in his home. In the mayor's home to be more specific.

The door of the room opened and Jake's head peered through, he smiled at seeing her open eyes and he pushed the door open, revealing a tray of food which he was holding.

"I've brought you some food."

"I told you I didn't want it," she said, sitting up. "And I didn't want to come here."

He set the tray of food on the drawer. "You fainted. I wasn't going to leave you on the banks of a pond like that." She clenched her jaw and looked forward, too stubborn to thank him. He chuckled. "I'm just going to imagine you saying 'thank you', since I bet you won't be," he said sarcastically.

She glared at him for a moment, before her heart hurt at how that resembled how Percy used to act. "Thank you," she said. "I'd probably be dying."

He tilted his head to the side. "More than I was hoping for. Well you're welcome, and you're welcome to stay here for as long as you need. But I'd rest if I were you, you're sick."

She smiled at him and nodded her head. "Yeah, that'd probably be a good thing to do."

"I'll see you tomorrow." And with one last smile Jacob left the room.

-.-

He didn't straight out open his eyes when he regained his consciousness, he first worked on understanding why his head was throbbing like someone had hit him with a hammer and it felt like it had been opened.

He remembered the face of his enemies, of the monster that he'd spent so much time with. He remembered a huge trident colliding with his stomach, being sent flying back against something black – like a vortex – and then nothing.

His right arm flexed and it was only confirmed that it hadn't been a dream, it made a metallic buzzing sound, arms weren't meant to do that, not real flesh arms any ways. He heard the people around him talk and warn each other that he was waking.

He didn't recognise the voices, it wasn't anyone from camp, that he knew, it wasn't monster-like or even sounding harsh and threatening towards him. So where was he? A hospital? No, the mortals would hate him for being a demigod, they wouldn't be as nice as they were. So where was he?

With much effort he managed to pry his eyes open, and as he did he was immediately reminded of what his right eye had been subject to. Everything was blurry through it and from his point of view it looked like a white line passed right through it.

There was something wet on his forehead and the only thing that passed through his head was, 'stranger danger'.

He pushed the hand away and abruptly sat up with his legs hanging off the sides of the bed. He unplugged the IV's from his left forearm and frantically looked around the room. There was a curtain separating him from something else, three nurses stood in the corner of his part of the room, looking at him wearily.

His eyes set on the one that was in the middle. "What is this place?" he asked. The nurse seemed too terrified to respond, so he asked again, this time harsher. "Where am I?"

"District five," she responded with hesitation.

He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. "District five? I mean, where in the world? Which country, which continent?"

That seemed to confuse the nurse. "Panem is all that's left."

"That's impossible," he whispered, then he shook his head and stood up, regretting it when he saw the floor spin around. He held his head in his hand as the effects stopped. He walked to them, all of them flinched at him coming closer but he ignored it. "There was a girl, she was with me. Where is she?"

The nurse shook her head slowly. "There was no one else, you were brought here alone."

The world seemed to spin further, and he took a few step towards what he presumed was the exit of the room he was in. He saw the passerby people giving him odd looks but in the moment he didn't care.

He broke into a run after his feet almost tripped on each other, he broke on a swaying run. He reached the doors and when he pushed the open he was met by a blinding sun, his arms covered his eyes from it as he looked around himself and how unfamiliar everything seemed to be. The people, the buildings, the air itself.

His pace returned as he started running where his gut told him to run, where his gut seemed to sense a form of water, his element.

"Where?" he kept on muttering to himself.

He reached the banks of what looked to be like the sea and he fell on his knees. "Where is she?" he yelled at it as he threw sand at it. "Where is she?" he yelled again, his hand going in his pocket where he felt the familiar pen, wrapping around it and uncapping it as it came out. He stabbed the earth with it. "You bitch! Where did you send her? You fucking bitch!" he fell back on the sand.

The waves had started to churn and rise as his emotions had. He let a tear fall. "Where the hell am I?" he whispered to himself, although he was asking the sea. "I need to know–"

He stopped mid sentence as a symbol caught his eyes, they widened rapidly and in no time he was on his feet with his sword in his hand. "This is all you," he muttered to himself as he walked towards it and fully recognised it as the one of the Earth Mother.

Then he saw it painted on a tree and he reached that point to then spot another one, it was leading him somewhere, and wether it was where she was or something else, this was a sign that he wasn't going crazy, but that, instead, something crazy had happened to him.

He followed the symbol until it reached a house, it was painted on the window sill, beneath it a piece of paper was sticking out of it. He ignored the weird stares he got from the by passers and walked to the porch of the house and grabbed the paper.

'Have fun', it said, and then there was the symbol again, telling him exactly from who it was.

He knocked on the door a few times before someone decided it was time to open it. The boy was met with a teenager, much of his same age, standing a little shorter than him, with brown eyes and dark brown hair cut neatly.

Percy looked around himself once before glaring at the boy in front of him. With no warning he grabbed him by the throat with his metallic arm and pushed him back inside the house. "What the hell is this?" he asked him, showing him the piece of paper he had found on the window sill.

The boy grasped and clawed at Percy's metallic arm, but the demigod had locked it in place and he was feeling none of the scratching.

"Answer me!" he hissed at the boy.

Someone joined them, Percy was aware of that by the noise of the footsteps and the shagged breathing. "Let him go, Perseus."

The demigod turned to look over his shoulder, but he didn't recognise the person standing there, looking like an older version of the boy he was choking. But then, how did he know his name?

"How do you know my name?"

The man took out another piece of paper and read it out loud to him. "...you will be soon joined by a threatening and dangerous young man by the name of Perseus Jackson..."

Percy let go of the boy's throat, making him crumple to the ground and he turned to the man fully. "Who sent you that? And where the hell am I?" he demanded.

The man started to walk towards his son, checking if he was okay. "The President sent me this. And you're in District five." He helped his son up and told him to leave them alone for a moment. "That was my son you just strangled," he said. "And I'm going to ask you not to do it again, since you're going to be staying for a while."

"What?" Percy asked. "No I'm not."

"Yes you are," the man said as he handed him the letter. "Orders from the President himself. And I'm not about to disobey them."

Percy scanned through the letter even with his dyslexia, he managed to pick up the important bits. "Screw the President," he said. "It's not like he's going to kill you."

The man chuckled with no humour. "That's exactly what he's going to do," he said as he grabbed the letter back. "And it looks like you need some filling in, I'm sure they've done something to you." He gestured to his arm and his eye.

Percy thought about making a run for it, trying to find a way out, but the kind and caring part of him blocked those thoughts out of his mind. If he left, he'd be dooming these people to die because he wasn't here.

So he decided to follow the man through the corridors and into the kitchen.

-.-.-

They sat down at the table, a mug of tea in their hands.

"My name is Michael Peterson, you can call me Mike, my son, the one you were choking before, he's Joseph," the man introduced himself. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions–"

"Where am I?" Percy asked.

Mike took a sip from his tea. "I've told you, in District five."

"Yeah, but where is that exactly?" Percy said. "Is it in America? Canada? Heck is it even on Earth?"

The older man chuckled. "You could say this is in the north of America."

Percy nodded, that was something. "What is this place? I mean, District?"

Michale smiled, although it was forced, anyone could see that. "Panem," he said with no apparent feeling. "A Capitol that rules over twelve Districts."

"And let me guess, you live in poverty whilst the Capitol is super rich?" Michael's nod was enough. "But why?"

"There was a rebellion, seventy two years ago, and a whole District –thirteen– was wiped out from existence."

Percy hated wars, he could say that himself, having been on the front lines multiple times. "And what happened after that?"

"To make sure that the Districts wouldn't think of another uprising," Michael said. "The Capitol came up with the idea of the Hunger Games."

The demigod frowned. "People starve?"

Michael chuckled. "No, well they do, but that's not the point. The fact is that in the rebellion, for every Capitol's death, there was at least two of the rebels. They wanted that to stick in our brains and in order to do that, the Hunger Games consist of twenty four children, from the ages between twelve and nineteen, murdering each other until only one victor remains."

Percy's face contorted in disgust. "Kids killing each other?"

The man nodded gravely. "One girl and one boy from each District, sent into an arena to fight to the death."

"And how are they chosen?"

"A reaping in late June, each boy and girl has to put their name in. Then this someone from the Capitol comes in and picks up two names, one from the boys and one from the girls. There can be volunteers, but usually it's the one that's chosen."

The demigod wasn't liking this. "And what happens to the 'victor'?"

"Showered in fame and money, and forever to be the Capitol's puppet. But to become one, you'd need to kill twenty three other tributes. How old are you?"

Percy thought about it, how old was he actually? He thought of the long years he'd spent in Tartarus, but how they'd only been a few weeks on the surface. Did they count as actual years to him, or didn't they? He looked the same age as he did before so–

"I'm seventeen," he said, deciding to go by actual age.

Michael looked at him weirdly. "Took you a long time to figure out," he said. "But that means that you'll be in it twice, unless your birthday is before June."

The demigod shook his head. "It's in August."

Michale stood up and put his mug in the sink. "I heard people saying there was someone on the beach, screaming his lungs out with a sword... I'm guessing that was you?"

Percy nodded. "Yeah."

"Is something wrong?"

"Except from the fact that I don't belong here, I'll probably be subject to those games you just talked about and that I'm as good as prisoner?" he asked the man.

"Yeah, except from that," he replied.

The demigod nodded again. "I woke up here, you know. And, I've never been here, never heard of this, nothing. But, before I blacked out, I was with someone, and she was hit with the same force I was. But she's not here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Does she mean a lot to you?"

Percy stared the man in the eyes and let him see just how much he was breaking with her missing presence. "She-she means everything to me. And I don't know whether I can go on without her. I know I snapped when she wasn't there for more than a month, so–"

"Maybe you'll find her," Michael said. "Don't lose hope."

-.-.-

He knocked on the door softly, aware that this could go in a hundred different directions.

"Come in," a voice said and Percy opened the door slowly.

Joseph was sitting on a chair overlooking a desk, Textbook and notebooks sprawled over it. His eyes quickly widened and went back to normal as he saw the teenager that had strangled him before. His hand reached to massage his neck with instinct.

"I just, wanted to say that I'm sorry," Percy said slowly. "For choking you, I mean."

Joseph nodded his head. "Ah, its– fine," he found himself saying, although it was anything but fine.

"Really?"

No. "Yeah," Jospeh said. "So, um, what's your name?"

"Percy Jackson– well, my actual name is Perseus, but I kinda hate it so I go by Percy," he introduced himself, stretching his hand out. "And your father told me, your Jospeh, right?"

The younger boy, Joseph, nodded. "Yeah. So... that's a strong arm you've got," he pointed out, aiming his pencil at Percy's right arm.

The demigods looked at it and sighed. "Yes," he agreed. "Pretty strong, and again I apologize for using it to choke you."

"Do you like water?" Joseph asked, curiously changing the subject of the conversation.

Percy frowned. "Yeah, I do. Why?"

Jospeh stood up. "Then come," he said as he walked out of his room. "District five has got a lot of water."

Percy grinned at him as they made their way out.

-.-.-

They stood on the beach overlooking at the sea, Jospeh was looking at the beauty of it, whilst Percy was looking at it with a grimace, remembering his father, something that didn't go unnoticed by the mortal teenager.

"What's wrong?"

The demigod took a deep breath. "It reminds me of someone," he said.

"Of who?"

"My father," he deadpanned.

Jospeh risked it. "What happened to him?"

"I'm not fully sure," he admitted. "Something bad. He was...taken, by bad people–" the ground trembled a little after that and Percy glared at it. "Fuck you."

"You're talking to the ground?" Jospeh noted.

In District Five it was no surprise if the ground trembled, with all the power surging through it and the taken from it.

Percy nodded at him. "I've got good reasons to," he said. "But their not something I should worry about now. So what can you tell me of the games?"

"The games? Like, what? I thought my father filled you in."

"He told me what they are, and what happens in them. But how do people win?"

Joseph scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "They kill the other tributes."

Percy rolled his eyes. "No, really? I didn't know that." The two boys chucked with each other. "But seriously, how did they win the previous years?"

"It depends really," Jospeh said, giving a serious answer for a change. "Every year the arena is different. So for example, there's this girl that won because she was the bet swimmer out of all the other tributes. The others drowned, whereas she didn't. Or, this other guy, he used the force field to redirect a knife towards the one that threw it... It's always different. It can be a forest, a beach, a jungle. And then there's all these crazy things the game makers add to make it more 'interesting' and challenging."

"Those people are sick," Percy said, a strange wave of nausea washing over him. "Putting kids into an arena for entertainment."

Joseph nodded in agreement. "I agree," he said. "But for me it's only two years left, and let's hope I get lucky and don't get picked."

Percy smiled sheepishly. "Ah, knowing my luck, I'm sure I'll be picked the first time..."

"It's a lot of people here in District Five," Jospeh said, trying to reassure him. "The chances you get picked are as low as they can be."

"Still," Percy said, looking at the horizon. "You have no idea how many times I thought things couldn't get worse and they did. I know my chances..."

.

 **I know there are similarities between this and Ageless Diversity.**

 **I am not fully sure, but I'm enjoying writing the later stages of it. This is not going to be really friendly wise. It will include angst, in later chapters, it might include sexual contents, it will possibly go off towards bits and pieces of insanity, and well, death and blackmail and that crazy shit.**

 **So, if you think you could get triggered, or you dont want to read it, or you do but not those bits, I will put - *WARNING* at the top of the chapter. I'm trying something new here, which is more realistic rather than simply sugar coating it all.**

 **I'm not even sure there will be serious stuff, bcs it wont be written, onyl mentioned but, hey, everyone deserves a warning. A 'know what you're reading'.**

 **.**

 _Preview of chapter 1:_

 _"You BASTARD!" she said and then stabbed her knife into his neck._

 _The two children of the sky god looked at their cousin. "They're not here," Nico said. "I can't feel them any wear close here."_

 _"So we came here for nothing?" Jason asked._

 _Thalia let out a yell of rage and a lightning bolt emitted from her spear, which she aimed at the wall, making it crumble down like it was made of legos._

 _"We have to get out of here," Nico said._

 _"Where did they go?"_

 _"I don't know, Thals. But we sure as hell won't ever know if we stay here any longer. The other Giants will know something is wrong in no time. They'll be coming." He extended his hand out for both siblings to take. Jason grabbed his immediately, whereas Thalia did with reluctance._

 _._

 **Sit tight, I'm actually really hyped about this. I've been working on it for so long and contemplating whether to put it for ages.**

 **I hope you enjoyed and stay tuned.**

 **Hunter**


	2. Part 1 - Chapter 1

**Happy to see there were reviews. ANd follows. ±20 and das more than I was lookign forward to. I didnt update for over a month, I know. If you want the rant then please, go read the eighteenth chapter in _Ageless Diversity_. If not, then continue down here.**

 **Imma make this quick. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.**

 **Enjoy please, and keep in mind my ' _skills_ ' were way worse then (these first chapters) than it is now. So bare with me. **

.

 **X-X-Part 1-Chapter 1-X-X**

 **...**

Thalia had seen it happen with her own eyes, and it would be an understatement to say that she wasn't shocked speechless. She'd seen her cousin and 'sister' disappear into nothing, just like that. Her mouth had dropped open afterwards, even as the fight continued she'd just watched that wall, where they had literally went through.

They were on a rescue mission, but the person they had come to rescue had literally disappeared, so what was it now?

She turned around to see Polybotes at the mercy of her brother, but they knew that without a god they wouldn't be able to kill him, and they didn't have a god. It would have been too risky to bring one along, especially since there were only two gods left to aid them.

"Where did you send them?" she demanded, she stabbed the Giant in the shoulder. "Answer me!"

Polybotes cackled in delight. "Ah, this is going to be so much fun!"

She yanked the dagger out and slashed it wildly at his ugly Giant face. "Where?" she yelled.

"I do not know," he said and to her surprise he seemed to be telling the truth. "All I had to do was open the portal, Mother would take care of where they ended up in."

"You BASTARD!" she said and then stabbed her knife into his neck.

The two children of the sky god looked at their cousin. "They're not here," Nico said. "I can't feel them any wear close here."

"So we came here for nothing?" Jason asked.

Thalia let out a yell of rage and a lightning bolt emitted from her spear, which she aimed at the wall, making it crumble down like it was made of legos.

"We have to get out of here," Nico said.

"Where did they go?"

"I don't know, Thals. But we sure as hell won't ever know if we stay here any longer. The other Giants will know something is wrong in no time. They'll be coming." He extended his hand out for both siblings to take. Jason grabbed his immediately, whereas Thalia did with reluctance.

Then the shadows around them bended and blended together as they wrapped around the three demigods and they were traveling through them.

They reappeared inside one of the three camps they and established. The one closest to the underworld which was a replacement for the Roman camp which they had lost. Camp Alpha. Camp Bravo was a replacement for Camp Half-Blood, and Camp Charlie was in the middle of the country, a safe house kind of camp.

When they appeared they were met with shouts and unsheathing of weapons which were soon lowered down once they recognized the three questers. Piper was the first one to break her ranks. "Where are Annabeth and Percy?" she asked as she hugged Jason.

The three questers started walking inside the camp, many campers following them to hear why their hero wasn't home yet. "We're going to say it once," Jason said. "And that's with either Athena or Hermes present."

"I'm right here." Jason looked ahead to see the wisdom goddess standing there, Malcolm holding up something for her to read. "Where's my daughter and the Sea Spawn?"

"Lady Athena, they were sent away," Nico said. "Somehow, Polybotes managed to create a vortex and they were sent through it."

Athena narrowed her eyes. "And where does it lead."

"That's the problem," Jason said. "We don't know. Neither did Polybotes, only Gaea knows."

The goddess' jaws clenched although he's tired to look as if she wasn't angry. "We'll find them."

-.-.-

Hazel was looking at different charts that signaled different things, like, the amount of gamma radiation and the radioactivity of certain places, that was because she had to find one of the gods and for the moment, she had set her mind on Poseidon, and her eyes were over looking a certain mountain in California.

She didn't expect for her boyfriend to come hurtling in her cabin at eleven in the evening, yelling her name. "Hazel!"

Her head had almost fallen off, she was tired and it had zipped straight back up at hearing her boyfriend. She looked at him. "What's wrong?" she asked, seeing his gaunt face.

"It's Percy–" Her face fell. "–and Annabeth. They were sent somewhere."

"Where?" she asked him.

He gestured frantically with his hands. "I don't know," he said. "No one knows apparently, except Gaea."

"Not Annabeth as well..." Hazel muttered to herself as she looked back at the map.

The door opened again and the son of Hephaestus came in, looking like he just woke up. "Is there a reason," he started, his voice sounded dangerous. "Why you two are shouting at this ungodly hour?" he finished shouting.

Frank was the one to break it to him. "Annabeth and Percy are gone," he said.

Leo's eyes opened and he didn't look asleep anymore. "Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"They disappeared through a black vortex."

"Where did they go?" Leo asked as he closed the door behind himself and made his way towards them.

"That's the problem," the son of Mars said. "No one knows. No one except that blasted Earth Mother." He punched a nearby table, breaking it in two.

"Wow, buddy," Leo said, raising his hands. "Calm down."

"We've got, what? Two gods on our side, Percy and Annabeth gone. Mortals trying to hunt us down because of the bounties on our heads. What's good about that?"

Leo was about to answer with a sarcastic comment but he was saved to from Hazel. "I've got something that could help us."

"What?"

"I think I know where one of the gods are," she said as she looked back at the maps and charts sprawled across the table. "Annabeth and I have been working on it, and I managed to come to a conclusion."

The two male demigods walked to the map of the United States. "Where?"

She tapped the mountain that used to host the Titan fortress in the second Titanomachy. "Mount Tam."

"How?" Leo asked.

Hazel brought up various charts and tables that she'd been looking at. "I've been looking at the gamma radiation and it's incredibly high here. The radioactivity is just as high, and then, you look at San Francisco and it's completely normal. Coincidence? I think not."

"Yeah, but that could as well be because of the Titan fortress. And Atlas, he's there too, remember," Frank pointed out.

"I've thought that too," Hazel said. "But do you guys remember when Percy told us about his encounter with Hyperion?" The two demigods nodded. "Well, I've checked Central Park, and Hyperion is still there. I've compared the two places and they are very different. Whereas Hyperion emits this sort of blue-Ish sort of colour, the one on Mount Tam is red. Completely opposite in a way. Which leads me to think that there might be a god instead of a Titan. So maybe, it isn't Atlas holding the sky anymore. Maybe, the Giants have put one of the gods on the job instead."

"I'm impressed," Leo said with raised eyebrows as he processed the information down. "But who would they put there? Zeus?"

"Not Zeus," Hazel said. "He'd be connected to his domain that way and they wouldn't allow that because it'd give him energy and eventually he could manage to break free."

"Then who–"

"Poseidon," Frank said. When he received a questioning look from Leo he was taken aback but when he saw that Hazel was smiling and nodding him along, he knew he'd guessed right. "Imagine it this way. Zeus and Poseidon have been antagonising each other since forever, trying to prove who's the strongest. What would be worse to mock Poseidon, but have him be crushed under the pressure of the sky, the very domain his brother is the god of."

"Exactly," Hazel agreed.

Leo smiled at the both of them. "Hazel you're a genius," he said as he gave her a bear hug.

"Well," she said shyly. "Annabeth started this, I only continued it."

Leo grinned at her. "We've got to tell Athena and Hermes about this. They'll want to know. Heck maybe we can get him out."

"But in order to do that we'd need another deity to take his spot," Frank pointed out.

"Atlas," Leo said without really thinking.

"Yeah, but where is Atlas?"

Leo looked at Hazel, asking for her help. "We'll find him," she said confidently. "And if not him then maybe we can put one of the Giants under it instead."

"That," Leo said. "Is a splendid idea."

"Actually it is," Frank agreed. "Because there probably will be one guarding over him, making sure us demigods won't get to him. If we can defeat the Giant –and the other monsters– push him under the weight of the sky, free Poseidon then we have him back."

"Let us just hope that the Giant guarding him is someone bad enough to give us an advantage once he's under the weight of the sky."

~.~.~.~

Late June arrived too quickly for both foreign demigods.

Annabeth had ended up being welcomed into the house of the mayor of District six and she'd become quickly a close friend to his son, Jacob Lewis. They got along pretty well with each other and they shared their hobbies with each other. Jacob would teach her the art of mechanics, something that reminded her idly of Leo, whereas she would teach him the art of fighting, preparing him –would he be chosen– to fight in the Hunger Games.

Percy had taken it to living with the Peterson's. He helped with house chores whenever he could and when he had feee time he'd go fishing with Joseph, and totally have the younger teenager wonder how the hell he seemed to be able to catch fish whilst he couldn't even catch one. They went to school together, and Percy didn't hate it any less than what he was used to before, although now he didn't have to fully worry about the prospect of revealing a full civilisation to them.

But both demigods would be lying to themselves if they didn't say that they weren't broken on the inside and that they weren't breaking on the outside, because they were, and there was nothing except reuniting with each other that would fix it.

-.-.-

The only thing he seemed to do was spend his time at the beach, staring out at the sea or fishing. Many would say that it'd be a bad thing to fish for a son of Poseidon, the fact that he was their lord and all. But there were bad fish in the sea as well, and those were the ones he fished, the ones he killed mercilessly.

"Hey," he was brought back to his reality by Jospeh walking up behind him. "It's the big day," he said.

Percy gathered his net and wires and looked at the boy he started to consider his brother, not by blood but his brother nonetheless. "Hey."

"It's the big day," Joseph said, his hands going in his pockets, false enthusiasm lacing his voice.

Percy walked out of the sea. "Yeah," he said. "The big day."

They started walking back home (Percy had started calling it home) as they talked. "So," Jospeh picked up their conversation. "We have to dress up nicely, because you never know wether you're the one that's going to be chosen–"

"I don't have any nice clothes," Percy told him.

The younger boy nodded. "I know, that's where I was getting at. My father is going to give you some, if that's okay for you."

"Is it okay for him?" Percy asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"Then it's okay for me too."

They continued their walk back to the house in silence, and Percy was forced to endure all the looks he received from the people of District five. He'd wished they'd get used to him, he knew he had a metallic arm, he knew his face was scarred, but come on, there was no need to stare. And on top of that, he still managed to catch the ladies' eyes, but he was loyal to his Wise Girl, he didn't even know these women's names. And on top of _that_ he managed to catch men's eyes as well.

Jospeh was the one to open the door and greet his parents. "We're back."

Mrs. Peterson was the first to meet them, she made a face. "Oh, Percy, you stink," she said with no hesitation. "Please go take a shower! The Reaping is in two hours! I'll lay something on your bed for you."

Percy grinned at her as he kissed her cheek. "I'm on my way," he said making his way to one of the bathrooms.

He quickly stripped down from his wet pants and blouse that he uses for fishing and stepped into the shower. He guessed he got lucky for ending up in District five, word was, it was the second wealthiest District throughout all of Panem, which meant he didn't need to live in poverty even though he was staying at someone else's house.

He let the water rinse away all of the dirt that he had accumulated throughout the day and watched as it ended up going down the hole in the floor. He let it energise him and in some way give him luck for the Reaping.

He didn't want to be reaped, that much he was so sure of. Only the idea of having to kill children in order to get out alive made him sick, and all for what? The entertainment of the Capitol? He wouldn't have any of that. Although he was sure, that if he did get reaped, he would do anything to be the one to get out alive, he had to get back to the others, in some way.

There was a war going on, outside of Panem, one which he might as well be the initial cause of. The defeat of Kronos had stirred the Giants into rising, and he was the reason Kronos had fallen. So it came down on him in a way. But that wasn't what bothered him, it was the fact that for the past months that he'd been in District five, they'd been fighting a war, been discriminated against, been watching as those they had considered mortal friends turned their back on them. He felt so useless.

He got out of the shower and tied a towel around his waist, covering his lower section but leaving his upper body free of anything and he walked to his room. Like Mrs. Peterson had said, a fine and formal outfit was laid out on it, and Percy had to admit, it brought on a sad emotion to it.

He started with the pants, they were a soft grey, and he was surprised to see that they fit perfectly, both in length and width, although he wore the belt just for the sake of it. And then there was the white shirt which he buttoned up to the second last button and added the tie, although since he was a rebel, he left the tie undone. He didn't even bother with the hair, knowing that they would never stay in place even if he tried.

When he got to the living room he was relieved to see that Jospeh was already there, ready and waiting for him to join him. He wore a smiling outfit as Percy's, although his pants were straight out black, the tie was done and his hair was pushed down with some sort of gel, that Percy had tried but found out it didn't work with his hair.

"You look good," Jospeh said.

When Mrs. Peterson noticed the undone tie around Percy's neck she hurried over to tie it in place. He tried to stop he but she won over him and she buttoned up the remaining button and tore the tie correctly around his neck. In the meantime Jospeh was laughing at the faces he was making.

But when she was done, Percy didn't forget to thank her. "Thank you, Mrs. Peterson."

She caressed his cheek with a cheeky smile. "Good luck you two," she said as she hugged her son. "Make sure not to worry, and whatever happens know both Mike and I love you."

Percy had a pang of hurt for his own mother, who resided in the underworld as of now. He wished she were here to assist him in this because he had a gut feeling that this day was going to be anything but okay. And he knew better than to ignore his gut feelings.

He gave Mrs. Peterson a big smile and then the two boys left the house, and started to make their way into the District's square.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Percy loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button, getting a good gasp for air just for show, making Jospeh who watched with a shake of his head chuckle.

"Order of actions?" Percy asked as they neared the square.

Jospeh went into a rant. "So the first thing we have to do is stand in line behind the boys over there. Then once we reach the Peacekeepers they're going to prick your finger and get your blood–" Percy idly wondered what they would do with the blood, and wether if they were going to take a DNA sample or something, and if they did that wether they'd be thoroughly confused when only half of his DNA showed up. "–don't worry, it doesn't hurt. And then we're going to have to go to the seventeen year old section of boys. Wait for Elisabeth Peachy –from the Capitol– to introduce herself and show us this horrible clip they put together every year –which is always the same one– and then there's the Reaping. By tradition they always do the girls first, then the boys. You get taken inside the doors and then I don't know."

Percy grinned at him.

"What?" Jospeh asked. "Have I got something on my face?"

The demigod chuckled. "No," he said. "It's just that the rant was kinda funny."

Jospeh glared at Percy but then quieted down when they reached the lines of teenagers waiting to get their fingers pricked.

-.-.-

Annabeth had been told countless times what the Reaping was, and how it unfolded every year. She was as prepared as she could be for this, although she'd hate to be picked, that she wouldn't deny. The idea of having it murder teenagers for the Capitol's entertainment was sick and it didn't sit well for her, as she knew it wouldn't have Percy either.

She wore a grey dress, Mrs. Lewis had give in to her, saying it was one that she had used during her Reaping when she had been young enough. Annabeth had taken it happily and put it on with difficulties. Mrs. Lewis had then worked in Annabeth's hair, making her look like a queen in the face. Two small braids from above her ears that connected at the back of her head, with the rest of her curls flowing ceremoniously down her back.

When Jake had seen her, his jaw had dropped over, something she really wished hadn't happened because it then made her uncomfortable, especially since he then added a comment. "You look beautiful."

She returned it with her own comment to him. "You don't look too bad yourself."

They both started to chuckle after that, and then the two of them had made their way to the central square of District six, to wait for Angelica Smits to come and reap them.

They separated once they had to get their fingers pricked, he went it the boy's lines as she went to the ones for the girl's. The prick was painless, after all she'd been through she didn't know what pain classified as anymore, and if she didn't know, she could only wonder what it felt for Percy.

She quickly banned the thought of him from her mind. If she was going to get through today, she had to have her mind straight and pressed on important things, not that Percy wasn't important, but he was nowhere near her, and thinking of him only made her heart ache.

Annabeth met up with Jacob after they got their finger pricked and expressed her thoughts. "This is going to go bad," she said.

"Hey," he said. "It's okay. Even if you do get picked. You could win it. You're good with the knife. I'm sure you'd be able to win it."

She didn't want to express her other thought. 'What if Percy gets picked too, then I'd have to kill him, or he me'. But she opted into smiling and nodding along to what he was saying. What was the point in worrying more than was necessary anyways. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen.

She bid him goodbye. "Good luck." And went to stand in the section for the seventeen year old girls. And then she waited for this Angelica Smits woman Jacob had told her had a very horrible sense of style, to show up. She couldn't wait to get this Reaping over and done with.

As she waited she sent off a little prayer, something she hadn't done in a while now. She prayed that neither she nor Percy get chosen for these Hunger Games, that she'd see him again any time soon and that possibly, they'd get out of this gods-damned place and returned to their friends and helped them fight against Gaea.

-.-.-

"Welcome, welcome," the mayor said once he had tested the microphone. He went on to read from a piece of paper.

He talked about the history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America.

Percy wondered what all of these people would do if they realized that North America still existed, that America in itself still existed. That he himself came from New York and that they were, in a way, prisoners here in Panem.

The mayor then listed the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave them the new laws to guarantee peace and, as the yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games.

Percy already knew it, as did everyone else, but it had to be repeated.

The rules of the Hunger Games were simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts had to provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes would be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors had to fight to the death. The last tribute standing won.

Taking the kids from the districts, forcing them to kill one another while the others watched — this is the Capitol's way of reminding the Districts how totally at their mercy they were. How little chance they would stand of surviving another rebellion.

Hearing it from the mayor was different than hearing it from Michael, Percy had to give them that. The way Michael had talked about them, it looked like he was leaving out the bad parts, the mayor said everything.

Whatever words they used, the real message was clear to Percy. "Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did in District Thirteen."

To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol required the people to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others. The last tribute alive received a life of ease back home, and their district would be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year, the Capitol will show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest would keep on the battle of starvation.

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," intoned the mayor.

Percy had to keep his disgusted face at bay, because he was about to be sick all over.

The mayor went ahead and read the list of past District five victors. In seventy-two years there had been not many more than six, which was a feat in Percy's point of view, and only three were still alive. The two most recent victors came into the stage and sat down next to Elisabeth.

The mayor then introduces Elizabeth to the crowd of people and she takes the matter in her own hands, knowing full well that it was being filmed and was probably live in all of the other Districts.

She walked up to the microphone. "Happy Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!"

Elizabeth moves to the bowls of the ladies. "Ladies first!" she said with a horribly sweet voice which made Percy cringe.

She reached in, dug her hand deep into the ball, and pulled out a slip of paper. The crowd of girls draws in a collective breath and then you could hear a pin drop. Eliza crossed back to the podium, smoothed the slip of paper and read out the name of the girl tribute. "Manila Evermore."

Everyone watched as a girl from the sixteen year old section walked away from them and up to the stage. She seemed good at masking her emotions. She stood at five nine, shorter than Annabeth, with blue eyes and ash brown hair braided down her back.

Percy looked down, poor girl, the torments she'll have to face...

Manila walked over to the stage and then on top, the two victors shook her hand and then they went back to their seats.

"Any volunteers?" Eliza asked.

When no one responds she walked toward the bowl of the boys, and Percy literally felt it in his gut. Then he heard a voice in his ears, a rasp from the melodic earthly voice, 'Have fun playing'.

"Perseus Jackson!"

He forgot to breathe for a moment, and then he was walking towards the podium, his head held high because he was Percy Jackson, the Hero of Olympus, and he would not be a victim to this, he wouldn't and he'd help make it all stop, if it was the last thing he did.

As he did the three steps to the podium he had the silent urge to start yelling that it wasn't fair, that Gaea had made sure he'd be chosen for this. He knew it was her fault. That she had compelled Eliza to pick the slip with his name, the same thing she had done with that old hippy man in Portland on his quest to free the Death god. But he restrained himself and looked contained as he shook hands with the other two victors.

Eliza asked wether there were any more volunteers, and when no one answered, the two reaped tributes shook their hands and he smiled to her. He remembered seeing her somewhere, after a school day she had stopped him and had found the guts to talk to him, which was more than many had done.

-.-.-

They had left in a room on his own, but it wasn't long before the door opened and his dear friend, which he had started to consider a brother, came in. Jospeh immediately engulfed Percy in a bear hug which Percy returned.

"God, this is crazy," Joseph said as he pulled away. "How many times has your name been in it? Six? That's like, so little, there are thousands of slips in there!"

Percy smiled. "Hey," he said. "It's fine. It's going to be fine."

"You're a tribute, in the Hunger Games! Nothing is fine."

"You're right," Percy agreed. "But I'm going to survive. I swear."

Jospeh seemed to calm down. "How do you know?"

Percy wanted to tell him right there what he'd been doing for the past five mortal years of his life. That he'd been a hero and saved the country from a civil war at the age of twelve. That he had battled and faced worse things than twenty three armed teenagers. Although he'd be totally lying if he said that he was fine with killing them. But he had to be the one coming back, he had to find Annabeth again, he had to go back to his old life again.

"Just trust me on that," he ended up on saying. "I'm going to survive, one way or another. I've been doing this type of stuff for a long time now. I'm not afraid."

"You're not?"

"I'm terrified of the prospect that I'll kill innocent teenagers, that yes," he admitted. "But I'm not scared of the Hunger Games. Or the Capitol." He raised his metallic arm. "I've faced things and beings which are twice as bad. Believe me, I'm not lying. I can make it."

Joseph gave him another hug just as the door opened and the Peacekeeper told him that his time was up. The younger boy was pulled out of the room and Percy was again left alone.

Again, it didn't last for long because soon they were escorting him to the train that would take him to the Capitol.

-.-.-

Annabeth had been ecstatic and happy when she hadn't been chosen as tribute, although she had looked down when both the girl and boy had been chosen, knowing that nothing easy awaited them once they'd reach the Capitol. The boy was fourteen, the girl was fifteen.

She had walked back home, side by side with Jacob, the two didn't share any words with each other, they left it all unsaid. So she allowed her mind to wander off to Percy, what had happened in District five. Had he been chosen? She knew she'd find out soon enough. After the tributes were already reaped they'd give time for the families to go back home and watch all the Reaping from all the Districts.

They all watched silently as the tributes were reaped from each District. Annabeth's heart rate quickened when they arrived at District five. Immediately she was happy to see that the District he had been living in was a wealthy District, it told her that he'd been living more than okay.

She listened with a quickening heart rate as the girl was reaped, Manila Evermore. Annabeth had to admit, the girl was pretty. Then she stopped breathing once the escort said that it was time for the boys.

"Perseus Jackson!"

The name rang in her ears, and it took her a moment to come back to her senses. A tear trickled down the side of her cheek as she watched the camera focus on him. He looked so...hot. She let more tears escape her eyes as the camera zoomed in, on both his arm and his face, how evil could they get.

But she was proud, the way he kept his head high, even displayed a ghost of a smile on his lips as he walked to the podium where their escort was. He shook hands with the two victors from District five and he actually smiled when he did so.

Just watching his smile, after so long, made her smile from ear to ear as she still shed the tears for him. Her Seaweed Brain was so strong. She knew he could win it, she hoped and she knew it in her heart that he could win it. And the gods knew he would try as hard as hell to. He didn't survive all he did just to be killed in these Hunger Games, in a place where he didn't even belong. She knew that. And deep in her mind she hoped that he'd try to win for her, so that maybe they could see each other again.

"Is that–?" Jake asked her but she interrupted him.

"Percy? Yeah that's him!"

"He seems like he could win," he tried to be positive.

Annabeth wiped her tears away and smiled at him. "He can win. And he will."

"Does he fight like you do?" he asked her, and there was a joke on it.

The demigoddess chuckled and shook her head. "He fights better than I do... He's– he's the best swordsman in this century. Maybe in this millennia. And he's the most powerful person I know. He's strong willed, and loyal. Gods he is too loyal for his own good."

"You really love him don't you?" Jake asked.

Annabeth nodded her head as another tear escaped her eyes. "I have never loved anyone else this much. And... I know him since I was twelve. We basically grew up together. He– he sacrificed everything for me."

That night Annabeth was awoken by a continuous stream of nightmares, some which brought back memories which she had buried years ago.

.

 **Like I mentioned in the other one, I know there are similarities between this and Ageless Diversity, but it goes into two _very_ different directions. Immediately off I think. **

**Comment, review, rate, follow, favourite.  
Anything, please.**

 **I need the love. Where is the love?**

 **Hunter**


	3. Part 1 - Chapter 2

**Hi, I donno what to say except, I was busy and I procrastinate a lot. Oh, and my middle finger was out of commission for more than a week. And holidays.**

 **Here's another chapter.**

 **Enjoy...**

 **.**

 **X-X-Part 1-Chapter 2-X-X**

 **...**

Percy was supposed to be impressed by all the food in the train, truth is, he wasn't. After living in the house of the Peterson's for the past few months he had lived okay, but still as a District citizen. But yet, this was nothing near one of those parties they threw at Camp Half-Blood, or Camp Jupiter. So he wasn't impressed. But he could only speak for himself, because Manila sure as hell seemed impressed.

"This is so much food," she said as she picked up a pastry.

Percy nodded, his mind not really into the conversation and looked at the door where their mentors would be coming through. "Yeah. But I've seen better."

"Where?" the male victor said as they entered the train compartment.

The demigod didn't want to answer, he was saved from doing exactly that by Manila. "So how do we survive?" she asked, jumping right into it.

"Maybe introductions would be a good start," the female tribute said instead as she took a seat on one of the comfortable-looking. "I'm Genevieve Marthis, I go by Gen most of the time, though."

The other three left standing, quickly took a seat in the three remaining chairs. "I'm Darren Hainge, but I'm pretty sure you guys already knew our names. Since the mayor introduced us before."

"Yeah," Manila said. "And you know ours, so–"

"Can we get to the part where you tell us how to survive?" Percy didn't need to be told, he knew probably better than anyone how to do that, having thwarted death on many, many occasions. But Manila didn't, she was most likely new to this whole killing-a-human-being sorta thing. It wasn't lightly that Percy said it, but he wasn't, he'd killed before in the past, both in the Titan and Giant war, he had killed demigods in those. Not only demigods, he reminded himself, also mortals.

It had been once, but the monsters that had been hunting him didn't care about where they ended up fighting, and Percy couldn't– wouldn't let the monsters catch him. Plus, those mortals were trying to help the monsters catch him, in his book what he'd done was as good as to what they were going to do to him.

Darren smiled at Percy. "Someone's eager," he commented.

"It's a first," Gen agreed.

Percy leaned on his elbows. "Well I don't plan to die any time soon," he said with a fake smile. "I haven't come this far to be killed now, have I?"

The three mortals were left confused, and Manila was the first to regain her senses. "So how do we survive?"

-.-.-

Percy wasn't going to lie, the Capitol looked pretty, and maybe he felt homesick as he looked at it because in all truths, it was very similar to New York. In fact, it was too similar for his liking. He was thoroughly annoyed when he was told that they wouldn't be resting as they arrived, but rather, they'd be made over and dressed up for the Tribute Ceremony. He dreaded it.

The people of the Capitol disgusted him. As they pulled into the station he saw that it was packed with people, and he had to laugh at what they wearing, they looked hideous, worse than Eliza, and that was saying something. Huge wigs of bizarre colors, eyelashes that were not physics-approved and weird as hell eyeliners and costumes. All in all, Percy felt like he had ended in a carnival show, or even worse.

But what really got to him, about these people, was the fact that they were smiling and waving at them. People that would then be watching the Hunger Games from their safe homes and betting on who would die first and who would win. That was what made him disgusted.

Manila though seemed to be on a totally different train of thoughts, she was waving back at them, and smiling at them. And maybe that helped to make friends, that would then deliver sponsors, but Percy couldn't care less. As long as he had his arms and his sight, he wouldn't even need a weapon, actually, screw the eyesight, even blind, he was sure he had a good chance at winning, although a sword would make it all better.

He kept his eyes set on the back of the head of Darren as they walked, he held his head up high, he would not look or even looked pleased to be in the Capitol. But he would look fierce and warn the people to back off. Then, they could sponsor him, as well as they could not. He didn't know how he was going to play this out, wether he was going to act charming or act like a total scumbag, but for one thing, he would make it clear he didn't like it.

-.-.-

They had him go through torture, and he must say, he would trade ten whip lashes to what they had made him endure and that was saying something, because last he remembered, whip lashes weren't painless.

They washed his whole body, even after he protested that he could wash by himself, they didn't listen and they scrubbed him thoroughly. Then after that they waxed his legs, private parts and the rest of his body. The people in charge had been constantly telling him to take deep breaths and be ready for the pain of having your hair ripped out, and they were surprised to hear not even a sound escape his lips, although he did flinch when it came to the more sensible parts.

He was aware of how they complimented his body, saying that it was toned and that he might seem too fit for his own good. They asked him a lot of questions, gods, he had wanted to uncap Riptide and cut off their tongues after they started asking about the scars. But he didn't, because the thought that he had to find Annabeth made him keep going, the thought of needing to go back to his friends and to stop Gaea.

The team of people had tweezed his eyebrows and shaved his little peach gruff, and then once he was fully shaved were he had to be they washed him all over again. This time more and longer than they had the first.

He was done with it and couldn't wait until they were done, because this was getting really frustrating.

They directed him to a door where they told him that his stylist would come soon and then they left him in there alone.

The word 'stylist' had him thinking bad things, what was this guy going to do. And then his mind wondered. What if it isn't a guy, but more like a girl? He mentally whined, knowing he would not want a girl as his stylist, if not for the reason that girls seemed to drool all over him when he showed even only his arms.

Why?

The door opened and he let out a big sigh of relief when his stylist was, in fact, a guy. He smiled as he took in his appearances, six feet zero, black eyes, pale skin and black hair in an undercut. His smile fell as he realized how much he resembled his cousin Nico, except for the height and the fact that this man was in his early thirties.

"Hi," he said and Percy was surprised to hear a cheerful and not so deep voice come out. "My name's Dorian, I'm your stylist."

Percy grinned at him. "Please, just, don't ask me to take another shower because I won't."

Dorian chuckled at his joke. "Ah, no," he said. "I think you've already taken enough baths for today." Percy couldn't agree more. "In fact, I don't see why they even have you go through that much washing..."

"I guess some 'Tributes' don't have as much sanitation as the Capitol," Percy said more bitterly than he intended.

His stylist heard the bitterness, but luckily he didn't seem offended. "I know life on the Districts must be hard. But taking that tone out there won't help you. The thing about this week, is that you need to make people like you enough, that they want to sponsor you, which may as well guarantee your win in the Games."

"I don't need sponsors," Percy said absently, the bitter tone still to it.

"Imagine you get an infection, your dehydrated, starving, sponsors can help you out of those tricky situations–"

Percy didn't want him to go on a rant on why sponsors were good. He interrupted as he pointed to a small cabinet where he guessed his 'costume' was in. "I'm sorry, is the costume in there?"

Dorian didn't look amused. "You're cocky," he pointed out.

"No," Percy said. "I'm arrogant. That's what they say at least. It's a family thing."

The stylist chuckled. "Well, that _arrogance_ , as you put it, may actually give you sponsors, just don't go too far with it."

Percy pulled his up his grin. "So about that costume–"

"It's not a costume," Dorian said, giving him a mock glare. "It's an outfit."

"Whatever," Percy said as he raised his hands. "You're the expert."

-.-.-

Percy liked Dorian, so he didn't straight out told him that he hated it because he guessed that the guy had put some thought into it, or maybe it wasn't his design. Turned out, it wasn't, the other stylist, the one for Manila, had been the one to come up with the design, and Percy couldn't wait to find out who this woman was and see wether she was dressed just as badly.

"The point is to resemble your District," Dorian had said.

Sure thing, he had wanted to reply, good thing I'm not even from here. But he contained himself and kept his mouth shut, something that he had learned to do.

He had to give it to them, it resembled 'his' District and whatnot, and maybe it didn't look too bad even. Just maybe. But the fact that it looked like it had electricity zapping around it didn't sit well with Percy, with him being a son of Poseidon and all. Actually, the thought made him feel bad and...homesick. And also it was ridiculous, something he'd never wear on any other occasion, or by choice even.

It was an electric blue tight shirt with long sleeves that the only thing they seemed to do was make his biceps look enormous, which they really weren't. Then this this weird ass type of mantels that had a hole where his head went and then about three belts on his waist to make it stay in place. A long length of it ended behind his knees and the shorts were way too short, again, showing off way too much.

Now all he had to do was see how Manila looked in it and pray to god he wouldn't make a laughing stock out of himself in front of all of Panem.

-.-.-

Annabeth's eyes hadn't left the television screen for the whole time, they were there, waiting for the screen to turn back on and show the Chariot Parade that would take place in little to no time. She needed to get another glimpse of him, she had to.

Jacob was kind and kept her company and tried to be positive as they talked about the chances Percy had with winning these games. But there was much that Annabeth was leaving out, like the fact that he could literally control water and that he could create hurricanes and earthquakes, that he was a hero that had killed more monsters that she could care to keep count. He'd saved the world over and over again.

She knew that if he knew all of that, he wouldn't have a doubt that he could easily make it. And as they watched she promised herself something, that if he won –which she was sure he would– she would volunteer the next year. She would sacrifice her innocence and fight against twenty-three other teenagers, and she would do it to see him again, because he'd be a mentor, and she'd see him again.

Then the anthem of the Capitol was playing and the television flickered on and all thoughts left her mind as she set it on spotting him–

She saw him and when she saw what he was wearing she burst out laughing, when she saw the face he seemed to be making as the camera zoomed in on him, she was holding her waist because the cramps had hit her.

What was more amusing, than the son of Poseidon dressed in something that resembled electricity so much?

Jake gave her weird looks as he saw her on the floor, laughing her head off but he didn't question it. It had never happened that she'd laughed that much and if seeing her 'boyfriend' like that made her laugh, then he'd be happy for her.

It ended all way too quickly, because then the chariots were turning back and soon enough they were back were they had come from, away from the public's eyes. Annabeth's laughing stopped and she dropped back on the floor like she had been before.

Jake walked over to her and squeezed her shoulder. "It'll be a week before they broadcast anything else," he informed her. "You should probably get some sleep."

-.-.-

Percy was ecstatic when they arrived in the Training Centre and they had their dinner, although it was mostly quiet for his part, he enjoyed eating and filling up his stomach with the goods of the Capitol. He then called it a night and retreated to the silence of his bedroom.

Nightmares managed to plague his mind like they did most of the days. What he'd been through, it wasn't going to be easy to forget, and he knew it. And if it wasn't because of the memories and nightmares, it was going to be looking back at him in the mirror, it was going to be in the arm that he saw every time he picked up his sword, in the scars that littered his body. There would never be a way for him to actually forget, and he knew it deep down.

-.-.-

The outfit for training was simple and felt flexible enough for him as he made his way done the elevator with Manila and his mentors.

"So, the idea is to find something you're good at and improve until you can do it with your eyes closed," Darren said. "But don't spend all of your time on weaponry, because as good as that is for you to kill the other tributes, it won't help you when you're freezing. So my advice is, try to spend an equal amount of time on both."

"But," Gen said, "don't exhibit all of your talents, the more dangerous you look, the more the Careers will have their eyes on you. Try to keep them off and their direction elsewhere. You don't want to be on their top list."

"Who're the Careers?" Percy asked, having missed out on this little detail.

"The ones that usually win," Darren started to explain. "Tributes from Districts one, two and four, they travel in a pack and pick the other tributes off, one by one, until their the only left."

"Okay," Percy said. "Got it, stay away from those guys, during both the training and the games."

He had no intention of doing that, mostly he was thinking about going after them. He wondered how the people of the Capitol would take it. Have someone from a District like five to be the one that hunts down the ones that usually hunt down the other tributes. The hunters becoming the hunted. The only regret would be that he wouldn't be seeing their reactions.

-.-.-

Percy and Manila weren't the first ones in the training arena, the 'Careers' were already there and in fact, they seemed to be the last ones, which made sure of one thing, everyone's eyes turned on them.

The head instructor quickly explained the rules and restrictions of the training gyms and then left the tributes to their own instruments.

The demigod headed for what he knew he was good at, archery. Wait, what he was bad at, archery. Because what if there weren't any swords in the arena and there were only bows? He would have to make do with those wouldn't he?

Only seeing one made him start to think about turning around. When he shouldered a quiver, he quickly started to regret it. When he picked up the bow itself, he almost dropped it and he was about to laugh at his own stupidness, but managed to cover it up with a snicker.

Manila who was close by and approached him when she heard the snicker. "What's wrong?"

Percy looked at her and grinned. "I suck at archery," he told her. "Last I tried it, I hit someone, that was standing behind me."

She laughed at that. "How do you even?"

"I don't know," he said truthfully as he walked into the archery range. "I'm cursed."

He grabbed an arrow from the quiver and notched it into place, he pulled the string back and aimed at one of the targets. When he let go, he was not surprised to see that the arrow ended at the very end of the room, managing to have missed all of the other targets.

He heard a slow and mocking-in-a-way clap and he turned to see the pack of Careers standing there, and a few paces to the right Manila was giggling. His eyes set on the Careers and he did something stupid, he grinned at them and raised his thumb.

The girl from two smirked before she recollected herself and the others merely shook their heads before they all went away and on their separate ways.

Percy went to retrieve the arrow he'd shot and then walked over to Manila to out the equipment away. "That was awful," he said absently.

"Are you kidding? That was hilarious! And you raising your thumb up was the cherry on the cake."

Percy shrugged and looked around the gym. "Do you know how to make a fire?" She shook her head which made Percy grin. "Then I guess you're going to learn."

"What?" she said as he started to make his way towards the station of fire making. "Wait up!"

-.-.-

Percy worked closely to Manila for the week, and in all truth, he had no idea how he was going to be the victor of these Hunger Games, not whilst she was alive. But the problem was that he'd gotten somewhat loyal to her, and he was afraid that once she was in danger he would put his life on the line for hers. Something which might as well cost him his life.

She wasn't much of a fighter, that much Percy understood, and it wasn't only because she was wearing it down, but because he could see it, the way she didn't even know a fighting stance for instance. She had spirit though, Percy had to give her that. He'd taught her most of what she knew by the end of the week of training and whilst he taught her, he got close to her, she was his friend, and once the time came, he wasn't sure he was going to be able to kill her. He banished those thoughts from his head, not really wanting to think about that, there was still time.

Percy had played it down by a lot, he would always allow the instructor to disarm him when he trained, and he made sure to be dramatic about it so that the Careers would take notice, to them he was nothing but a whiny attention seeking boy. Oh, they were in for a rude awakening, Percy had always thought when they had smirked at him laying on the floor. A very rude awakening.

But as he had played it down, he took notice of the other Tribute's weaknesses. The Careers were too arrogant for their own good, and to be totally honest, Percy knew he could beat them with facility if he had a sword in his hands. The boy and girl from three didn't look too bad, although he didn't let looks betray him, he knew better than anyone that little things could turn out to be very lethal.

The ones from six looked young and inexperienced, and as he watched them train, he knew they actually were as did all the other tributes except two. The boy from eight and eleven, they both had what many would call a good physic and an adequate muscle mass which would aid them in a fight. The one from eight was sixteen years old, whereas the one of eleven was older than Percy, eighteen. If he had to say, him and those two were the only ones outside if the Careers that might stand a chance on their own, just might.

But of course, Percy wasn't going to be alone, he had already talked this over with Manila and they had agreed to stick together for as long as they lasted. He had been the one to offer and she hadn't hesitated to say yes, a clear sign that she wasn't plotting behind his back. Especially since he had then went on a rant of how when and of they were the last ones left they'd fight then, but until that moment came he'd work on keeping her safe whilst she watched his back.

He already had a clear idea as to who he was going to be responsible for the deaths of. The ones of the Careers, they were so arrogant, looked at the other tributes like they were dead meat and that type of behavior only angered Percy and it made him think twice about feeling guilty if he ended up being the one who killed them. After all they wouldn't hesitate to kill him, so why should he?

Then he swore to himself that he wouldn't kill the other tributes unless they made it clear they wanted to kill him, then he'd fight them, and kill them.

His nights were disturbed by the thoughts of all the tributes that weren't going to make it home, by the prospect that from the twenty four teenagers that entered that gym everyday, only one would be the one to come out on top, and that may be Percy. But it may as well be anyone else form any of the other Districts.

But Percy had a few reasons more why he had to win. He had to get back to his Wise Girl, that was the first. And the second was that he needed to get out of this...'country' and help his friends in the actual world to fight Gaea and the Giants.

Darren and Genevieve had made it very clear that he had to get sponsors, that was the only way he could survive. So when Percy went inside the gym for his personal trial he made sure to leave an impression for the Game Makers, something that they would never forget in a thousand years.

He'd asked for over fifty people against whom he could fight against at swords end. They had laughed at him. When he insisted, they called in a close number to four dozen, claiming they couldn't find fifty at the moment. At the end, when all of the practice-men were laying on the floor, either unconscious or winded, Percy was the one laughing at the Game Makers whilst their mouths hung open, their glasses long forgotten. He wasn't even breathing heavily. It had taken him seven minutes.

He had given them an awkward mock bow and then left the room with a grin on his face, sending a two fingered salute at the men laying on the ground.

Word is, the next tribute had to wait up to thirty minutes before she was allowed inside to do her own trial and when Percy had heard that, he couldn't hold his laughs back.

-.-.-

"What did you do?" Manila asked him once word got around.

Percy winked at her with a grin. "It's a secret."

"He can't tell you," Darren said as he joined them on the couch. Soon enough the scores would be displayed on the television and everyone was eager to know.

Soon enough the Capitol's anthem began to play and Caesar Flickerman was displayed as he read out from cue cards.

"Now," he said, "onto the votes each Tribute was given."

The boy from District one got an eleven, the girl got a ten as did the boy from District two, the girl got a nine. District four boy got a nine, girl got a ten. Four boy got a nine and the girl got a ten. Then came the time for the girl in District five, Manila.

"Manila Evermore, with a seven," Caesar said. "And then, Perseus Jackson–" his eyebrows rose when he read the number on the paper he was reading and Percy couldn't help but grin. "With a twelve."

Darren clapped him on the back as both Genevieve and Eliza made hims stood up as they squealed with glee.

"Twelve is so good!" Gen said. "It's top marks."

"Now I'm really wondering what you did," Manila said.

Percy plopped back down on the couch as he continued to listen to the votes the other tributes got. "You did well too. Seven is good."

"Says you!"

They continued to watch and listen as the tributes were each given a vote and Percy wasn't surprised when both boys he had set his eyes on got a nine out of twelve. The rest of the tributes remained below the eight, meaning that they really weren't something, although that may be mean, it was the truth.

Now the only thing left to do was the interview with Caesar Flickerman and then the games, he could do it.

.

 **But can he really?**

 **AGain, a big thank you to all of those who read and followed this story, it means a lot and gives me more motivation to keep on updating it.**

 **Review to let me know what you think, and follow to show you wanna see more. Bcs there is a lot more.**

 **Hunter**


	4. Part 1 - Chapter 3

**Hey so i think it's safe to say I update this once a month. Life is getting seriously busy and although I have much of it already written out, I want to update this when I update Ageless Diversity and that's once a month now a days, so please bear with me.**

 **Enjoy...**

 **.**

 **X-X-Part 1-Chapter 3-X-X**

 **...**

That morning, they spent the whole morning training for speech, and god bless Darren, Percy was never listening. The victor had tried his best to have Percy concentrate on what he was saying but the demigod simply wasn't interested, he already had an idea of what he was going to say and he wasn't going to change his mind. He apologized to Darren at the end of their session and then met up with Manila before they had to go their different ways to get ready, and Percy really hoped it would be nothing like the chariots.

"How did it go with Darren?" she asked him as they walked through the common room of District five.

Percy chuckled. "I probably gave him hell," he told her. "I didn't listen. I couldn't concentrate. You see, I've got ADHD." That was not the reason why he hadn't listened, but he pulled that card just to wriggle out of the many questions that she usually asked when they talked together.

"Oh, I didn't know."

"There's a lot you don't know about be," he said with a grin. "Like for instance, not only do I have ADHD, but I'm also dyslexic."

She smiled at him. "I kinda figured that one out on my own."

"You did?" he asked, scrunching his eyebrows together.

"Yeah, every time you're reading you scrunch your eyebrows up and look very pissed, so I figured you had difficulty."

"Perceptive," he commented.

"Anything else I should know?" Manila asked.

Percy smirked. "What about you?" he asked instead. "Got any 'secrets'?"

She chuckled. "I wouldn't call what you just told me, a secret, but yeah, I do."

"Like?" he pushed.

"It's not like yours, it's more about my family. My parents split when I was young–" Percy didn't even try to say he was sorry, he knew the feeling. "–He went off with another woman, left me with my mother. Nowadays I see the new family he's made himself, and it makes me want to rip his hair out."

Percy nodded along. "I can relate," he said truthfully. "Although, I hadn't met my father... I wasn't even born and well, he had to leave. I then met him when I was twelve years old, and he basically told me I was a mistake, so you know."

"That's horrible," Manila said before she could stop herself.

He snorted. "Yeah. But it wasn't in the way you'd expect. He didn't want me to be born under those circumstances."

"What do you mean?"

He hadn't thought about explaining this. He scratched his head awkwardly, stalling for time so his mind could think. "Well, life in the Districts isn't the best, is it?"

"Ah," she said in understanding. "I get it. But it doesn't seem like you resent him now, what changed?"

The demigod looked down at his hands, at the scars covering his flesh one and the metallic arm. "A lot," he said. "I happen to have saved his ass, countless times, he opened up, started calling me 'son', got more involved into my life. I actually felt him beside me after a while, I knew he was there and then–" he stopped speaking of his own accord, thinking of what had happened as good as he remembered it.

He fell down on the couch as a migraine hit him hard in the head, his fingers massaged the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes tightly. Manila sat down next to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded although he didn't look okay. "Yeah, it's just a migraine."

"Are you sure?"

Percy nodded again and let his eyes open as his hand fell down. "Yeah, I'm sure," he assured her. "What was I saying?"

"You were talking about your father," she said, although she still looked concerned for him.

"Ah yeah," he said. "Well, he kind of...disappeared a few months ago."

She looked genuinely interested. "And you're preoccupied for him."

He chuckled as he shifted his weight around. "Well, at the moment, I've got a bigger problem to worry about, but yeah, I don't know what would happen if he died."

Saying that thinking about his powers. Would he lose them if Poseidon died? Would he still be a demigod if the god that sired him didn't exist anymore? What would he be? Also thinking about losing his father. He'd given him everything.

-.-.-

It was already dark outside when he met up with Dorian, and he was happy to see that what the stylist had picked out wasn't anything as horrid as the one he had worn for the chariot.

"Hi," Percy greeted as he took his jumper off and remained in a t-shirt.

"Hey there," Dorian greeted as he stood from his chair. "So, I know full well you despised the outfit the other time, and you'll be happy to know that this is nothing as hideous."

Percy grinned at him. "Yeah, I see."

Dorian nodded and together they walked over to the table where it was set on. "So, it's a normal suit, I'm sure you've worn some kind of suit before–"

"No," Percy said. "I always hated them." He left out the detail that it was because he couldn't fight monsters comfortably with it, that they reduced the movement of his arms and such.

"Why?"

"I'm not very flexible in them," Percy said smoothly. "I usually just stick to the shirt and sometimes the tie. But I hate those too."

Dorian chuckled. "Well, you're going to have to make do with this, because it's what you're wearing."

"Of course," Percy said, sounding diplomatic, which had both men chuckle. "Okay, seriously though. You're going to help me with this right, because I'll have you know I never tied a tie on my own in my whole life. And I'm not planning on learning any time soon."

"Sure thing. But you can put the pants on your own, right?" Dorian asked.

Percy looked at the pants painfully for a moment before he turned to look at Dorian. "Actually, I don't think I can," he said before he snorted. "Okay, of course."

-.-.-

Percy wasn't scared, he wasn't even anxious, heck he was excited. And also, he didn't look like a complete idiot, although he still wasn't overly fond of the outfit, it still had that sense of electricity to it and gods knew he hated electricity. He tried to block out the memories of when it had been used on him to inflict pain and get him to yield...

A shiver ran up his spine and he flinched at the cold air.

He wore electric blue pants, with a soft but yet visible pattern of lightning over it, a white buttoned up shirt with a blue tie and a suit of the same patterns and colours as the pants, if not a little lighter, just to have to contrast. He still hated it though, with him being a son of Poseidon and all.

The tributes watched from a smaller screen offstage as Caesar Flickerman introduced the Hunger Games and then called the first tribute up. The girl from one, the interview lasted for about three minute and Percy knew she had managed to catch some hearts.

It continued like that for all of the tributes, Caesar would call them up, they'd be interviewed for three minutes and they tried not to make a fool of themselves, and then they'd come back through the same door and then they left unless they cared about the other tributes.

When it was Manila's turn he hugged her and wished her good luck, like a fiend would. Percy was proud when he saw the audience be fascinated by her beauty and someone even dig whistled, which gave him hope that she might get her own sponsors that would help her.

And then he heard it. "Please folks, let's welcome, Perseus Jackson!"

He cringed at the name as he made an appearance out on the stage. He smiled and waved at the audience, trying to put on his most convincing knock-out smile as he shook Caesar's hand. "Please, call me Percy," he said. "Perseus reminds of when my mother used to get pissed at me."

This, as he had expected, brought up a lap of laughter from the audience and all Percy could do was smile at them and act civilized in front of the people who would enjoy watching him kill the other tributes.

Both Caesar and Percy took a seat in the white chairs which seemed way to weird for the demigod but he sat nonetheless, just as the former continued talking. "You're quite the joker."

"Oh, I try my best," Percy said. "But you know what else I try my best at? Annoying people that much that they want to kill me."

Caesar laughed like he always did as the audience joined in, and Percy nodded to himself, this was going the right way. "Oh, Percy," he said as he 'wiped a tear' away from his eyes. "But what I'm sure we're all dying to know, is how you got a twelve in the training trail?"

Percy flipped his lopsided grin. "I can't say exactly what I did," he said. "But I can, tell you that the Game Makers were left with their mouths hanging open at the end of it."

"I heard it took half an hour for the next tribute to be able to go in," Caesar pointed out.

Percy raised his shoulders in a 'what can you do?' manner. "I'm a special boy," he said and as expected the audience laughed again as did Caesar.

"Well, well," he said as the audience settled down. "But tell me, do you think you can win the games?"

"Totally," Percy said without hesitation.

Caesar raised his eyebrows. "How so?"

"I guess you'll see," Percy said and earned a push on the shoulder from Flickerman.

"Ah, tell us more," Caesar asked. "Please, the details are needed."

Percy game him a thin smile. "But then my enemies will know my plan," he said with mock sadness, which had the audience chuckle and some even laugh.

Caesar sighed and shook his head. "The audience loves you, and I'm wondering –as I'm sure all the ladies in the audience are– is there a someone, a special someone back at home?"

Was Annabeth something he wanted to share with the whole of Panem? No. But what if she was out there, in one of the Districts? Which she probably was, Percy knew it would be something Gaea would do. Put them in the same prison but unable to reach each other, taunting them.

So what would be the harm in trying to reach out to her, to show her that he remembered her and that he still cared. That everything he was doing, was, like always, for her.

"A lady that caught your heart–"

"Yes," he said before he could change his mind and ignore the question. "Actually there is."

Caesar looked at the audience before getting closer to Percy. "Tell us more, a name, physical appearance."

He was asking too much, but if Annabeth was out there, then he had to tell her, to show her that he remembered her and that she was the reason he was going to fight to the end, so that he could see her again.

"Her name's Anna," he said and he knew she was going to punch him if she knew, she hated being called Anna. Or Annie, or anything that wasn't her actual name. "And, she's got blonde princess curls–" the audience oohed at his description and use of the word 'princess' to describe her. "–wth piercing grey eyes and…she's beautiful."

"You seem like you love her," Caesar said as he patted his leg.

Percy grinned. "Oh, you have no idea. But there's always been this one problem," he said.

"Which is?"

"Her mother hates me," he said and again, the whole audience burst out laughing, because the parents of the girl hating the boy was such a cliche and perfect thing for the Capitol. "Gods, she hates me!"

"How could she hate such a fine young man like you?"

Percy chuckled. "I'm not sure it's only me, it's also that our families have been enemies for a while now."

"Ah," Caesar said. "It's a Romeo and Juliet story."

The demigod didn't like being compared to that story, those two had nothing on Annabeth and himself. Their love life seemed like a piece of cake compared to the one he and Annabeth dealt with. Being separated half of the time and all.

"Yeah, you could say that," he said.

But this wasn't about his love life, this was about two things, making the people of the Capitol like him and manage to show Annabeth that he kept her in his heart at all times.

"And..." Caesar seemed hesitant of what he wanted to say next. "Is there something that you'd like to tell her, before you go in the games. I'm sure she's looking."

Percy wasn't, but it was worth a shot.

He looked at the camera aiming at his face and smiled, and for the first time, it wasn't forced. "Just know," he started. "That I'll do whatever it takes to see your eyes again. And that you're always in my heart. So, 'as long as we're together' I know I'll make it through."

The audience erupted in cheers and cute oohs as he finished and looked back at Caesar who grabbed his hand and together they stood. "Everyone! District five, Perseus Jackson!"

-.-.-

Annabeth had been sitting in front of the television since when she had returned from school with Jake. She'd done her homework as she kept an eye on it, even thigh Jacob had told ear that it was going to happen after dinner, she insisted on staying there.

The whole Lewis family was there when the television flickers to life and Caesar Flickerman walked on the stage and immediately it was heard that the audience stood up and cheered, clapping valiantly and making encouraging noise. "Welcome, to the seventy second, Hunger Games!" he said with a smile before he started laughing, and Annabeth could see it clearly as a fake laugh.

She didn't like the man, that was her first impression, although she could see why people liked him, he was an entertaining host. Laughing at appropriate moments, trying his best to have the Tributes be a part of the show and enjoy themselves.

She knew she couldn't hold it all against him though, he was just doing his job.

Then he called him out, and Annabeth's heart skipped a beat. "Please folks, let's welcome, Perseus Jackson!"

Annabeth giggled, he hated that name... The family behind her where at the stage that they wouldn't even try to understand. She was like that.

When he made an appearance, her heart started jumping up and down, her hand soon covered her mouth as she saw how...good he looked. How healthy and...handsome. Although her eyes glinted with amusement at the pattern clearly displayed on his suit and trousers. Lightning.

He smiled at the cameras and waved at the audience, she saw through it, it was fake, all of it. He was acting and he was doing a hell of a good job.

Percy put on his most convincing knock-out smile as he shook Caesar's hand, Annabeth felt a little tint of jealousy as he heard dog whistles from the crowd, he was hers.

"Please, call me Percy," he said. "Perseus reminds of when my mother used to get pissed."

She chuckled, her hand not leaving her face as a single lone tear trickled down the side of her cheek. The first of many to come. The audience laughed at the comment Percy had made and both he and Caesar took a seat. Her eyes watched as his hands moved to unbutton the buttons on his suit, it looked like he had done it forever. But she knew as a fact that he had never work a suit before, monsters and all.

"You're quite the joker," Caesar commented.

"Oh, I try my best," Percy said. "But you know what else I try my best at? Annoying people that much that they want to kill me."

Annabeth had to laugh at that. "Oh yes you do," she muttered. But she had heard the underlying words, 'Like President Snow soon will be'.

Caesar laughed like he always did as the audience joined in, and Annabeth noticed Percy nodding to himself, like he had a plan, she smiled so largely that another tear was forced out. Percy, with a plan, what had the world come to?

"Oh, Percy," Caesar said as he 'wiped a tear' away from his eyes. "But what I'm sure we're all dying to know, is how you got a twelve in the training trail?"

Annabeth wanted to know that too, and she gazed as Percy flipped his lopsided grin. "I can't say exactly what I did," he said. "But I can, tell you that the Game Makers were left with their mouths hanging open at the end of it."

The demigoddess wouldn't have expected anything less from him, it was his forte. Although she imagined he had shown off his swordplay skills, and exaggeratedly so.

"I heard it took half an hour for the next tribute to be able to go in," Caesar pointed out.

Percy raised his shoulders in a 'what can you do?' manner. "I'm a special boy," he said and as expected the audience laughed again as did Caesar.

Annabeth couldn't help but laugh on her own, the tears now falling every time she moved her face features. Of course he is. He was her special boy.

"Well, well," the host said as the audience settled down. "But tell me, do you think you can win the games?"

"Totally," Percy said without hesitation.

Annabeth knew he could, she knew he would. He was strong enough to, both physically and maybe mentally. He'd earned it, to live through them. He had a duty outside of Panem, the one to protect his family, something Annabeth knew she wouldn't be let down on.

Caesar raised his eyebrows. "How so?"

"I guess you'll see," Percy said and earned a pat on the shoulder from Flickerman.

"Ah, tell us more," Caesar asked. "Please, the details are needed."

Percy game him a thin smile. "But then my enemies will know my plan," he said with mock sadness, which had the audience chuckle and some even laugh.

Percy didn't have a plan, that much Annabeth could see through his eyes, they were the same eyes that told her 'I don't know what I'm going to do so let's just see how this goes'. And she loved them, but she wished he actually might have had a plan, it would probably help, even though she knew he would discard it immediately, or forget about it, deciding to improvise, because that's what he seemed to do best.

Caesar sighed and shook his head. "The audience loves you, and I'm wondering –as I'm sure all the ladies in the audience are– is there a someone, a special someone back at home?"

Annabeth's heart stopped completely for a couple of seconds then. Her eyes widened and once her heart started beating again, she could hear it drumming in her ears like someone was playing the battery right next to her.

Would he tell the whole of Panem about them? Would he even remember her?

"A lady that caught your heart–" Caesar was interrupted by Percy.

"Yes, actually there is," Annabeth was sure she was the only that saw the hollowness in his eyes as he said those words, how he seemed to internally break.

Caesar looked at the audience before getting closer to Percy. "Tell us more, a name, physical appearance."

Was he even talking about her? What if he had found someone else in District five, a someone that was better than her? What if he had indeed forgotten her? She knew it could be a likely possibility, something Gaea would do.

She held her breath.

"Her name's Anna," Annabeth's tears fell down faster than before. But oh, she was so going to punch him when she saw him, he knew he hated being called anything but Annabeth. "And, she's got blonde princess curls–" Her expression saddened miserable as he said those words. "–wth piercing grey eyes and...she's beautiful."

"You seem like you love her," Caesar said as he patted his leg.

Percy grinned. "Oh, you have no idea. But there's always been this one problem," he said.

"Which is?"

"Her mother hates me," he said and again, the whole audience burst out laughing, because the parents of the girl hating the boy was such a cliche and perfect thing for the Capitol. Annabeth couldn't help but laugh along with them. Oh gods, he was talking about their love life in front of thousands and thousands of people. "Gods, she hates me!"

"How could she hate such a fine young man like you?"

"You have no idea," Annabeth muttered to herself.

Percy chuckled. "I'm not sure it's only me, it's also that our families have been enemies for a while now."

Annabeth wasn't sure that 'a while' was anywhere near thousands of years. She chuckled to herself even though her tears kept on coming out. She would have never shown this much weaknesses –especially for something like love– but he was making it all the harder.

"Ah," Caesar said. "It's a Romeo and Juliet story."

"No!" Annabeth snapped at the television screen. It was nothing like Romeo or Juliet, those two guys seemed to have it easy compared to what she had with him. They had absolutely nothing on them.

"Yeah, you could say that," Percy said instead and she had to say she was proud, because he was learning to think before he talked. The thought saddened her, because as much as that would save him his life now, that meant that they had forced him to change, to change into something he wasn't.

"And..." Caesar seemed hesitant of what he wanted to say next. "Is there something that you'd like to tell her, before you go in the games. I'm sure she's looking."

Annabeth's breathing stopped at the same time the drumming in her ears got louder. Was he going to risk it, to share something 'personal' in front of thousands, millions of people, and maybe he didn't even know wether she was watching or not. She could see it, he wasn't sure she was, but he seemed to return to his old self, the one that said 'what have I got to lose here?'

He looked at the camera aiming at his face and smiled, and for the first time, it wasn't forced and Annabeth anticipated what he was going to say.

"Just know," he started and he sounded much different than the Percy that had been talking only seconds before. "That I'll do whatever it takes to see your eyes again–" She sucked in a precious breath of air. "–And that you're always in my heart. So, 'as long as we're together' I know I'll make it through."

As long as we're together... after all this time it had stuck with him, those few words that she told him as they had been hanging off the edge of the entrance that led to Hell. Those words, that seemed full of meaning then, and now seemed like they were more than that, like they were his life line. 'As long as we're together I know I'll make it through', those had been his words.

Her tears came down faster once she realized that it meant that when she'd die, he wouldn't have anything to fight for anymore, that once she wasn't with him he'd stop, he'd lose hope, the reason to fight.

She hugged her knees as the audience erupted in cheers and cute oohs as he finished and looked back at Caesar who grabbed his hand and together they stood. "Everyone! District five, Perseus Jackson!"

She stood quickly stood and hurried out of the room as she started to wipe her tears away. She ran out of the house and to the pond, the place that she knew she could think.

He had inflicted that on her, he had shown her how calming it could be to look at the waves and cripples in the water. To look at them and know that they were part of something much bigger than themselves.

.

 **I have no idea why I ever thoguht writing the same thing in two different perspectives was nice. WHy or how it made in sense, but anyways, I hope you liked this.**

 **Hunter**


	5. Part 1 - Chapter 4

**Hey, pls don't trust me with uploading regularly.**

 **I enjoyed writing this fic till the point I've written it at, but I'm very busy and simply uploading takes a while which is a while I can't always afford.**

 **Enjoy:**

 **.**

 **X-X-Part 1-Chapter 4-X-X**

 **...**

The day came too early, and Percy woke badly. The migraine he'd had whilst talking to Manila the day before had tormented him during the night, as well as the thoughts of all the things going on in his life, like Annabeth, the Hunger Games, Poseidon's health, the war against Gaea, and Annabeth again. Keeping him awake for most of the night and giving him a restless sleep when he managed to drift off.

But the alarm came all too quickly and his reaction was to throw it at the nearest wall, his strength making so it broke on contact. He felt more satisfied after that, although it then all came back crashing onto him.

The Games.

They started today and that brought a whole lot of other thoughts spiraling into his brain which only brought back the migraine. He kicked the side of his bed. Not a smart idea. His foot started throbbing.

He sat back down and took a deep breath, he ruffled his hair as he tried to wear his sleepiness off and get his mind ready for the tiring day to come.

As he looked outside he saw it was still dark, because obviously, the Capitol would have it so that the games started at an hour where most citizens would be waking up or almost ready to go off to work. First thing to be seen when they woke up, a bloodbath.

He quickly put on the clothes that had been laid out for him on a counter in his room. They consisted in black cargo pants, a grey-ish t-shirt and a waterproof jacket.

When he was done and ready to go he made his way to the common room where Darren was already there, waiting for him. The victor made his way over to Percy and the two shared a man-hug.

"Are you ready?" Darren asked Percy.

Percy managed to nod, although he wasn't sure himself, was he? "Yeah... Ready as I'll ever be."

The victor clapped him on the shoulder. "From everything I've seen, I'd be surprised to not see you coming back."

Percy flipped him a smile before Manila entered the common room, dressed in the same clothes he was wearing. He approached her and like to Darren, he gave her a hug. Gen followed are Manila.

"My advice," she started. "Is that you stick together for as long as you can."

The demigod looked at his mortal friend, and a silent comment went through, they both nodded simultaneously. "We were already thinking about that."

Gen raised her hand with a grin. "Well, then," she said. "Only thing left to say is, good luck."

"And may the odds be ever your favour," Darren imitated the accent of the Capitol.

The four all laughed full-heartedly before the two tributes were escorted out of the common room.

Percy put his hand in his pocket, checking wether his pen was still there, it was. He wasn't sure wether he'd be allowed to bring it in the games, but even if they took it from him he was going to get it back somehow. It would always come back.

He worked on steadying his heartbeat. Even now, when they far, far away from the arena that would break him, he already felt it. The adrenaline rushing through his blood. Making his limbs feel like nothing more than lead. His muscles nothing more than butter. He had to get rid of it. He'd learned how to do so. It helped when he was about to walk into a battlefield. When he was about to face an enemy.

So he worked on it.

~.~.~.~

When he saw the jet they'd be flying to the get to the facility below the arena —or something along those lines— he almost had a heart attack. Then immediately after the horror, came the grief and guilt. Grief, because look at where he was. Because being scared of flying seemed like such a little thing to what was happening at the moment. Because now he shouldn't worry, because Zeus wouldn't be able to snap him out of the sky even if he felt him.

Because Gaea was winning.

She was winning.

She was enslaving gods and demigods alike, and in the meantime, he was here, in a country —what even was this— who forced teenagers to fight against each other until only one was left standing. Where the Districts, instead of rebelling as one, allowed that to continue. They allowed the Capitol—they allowed Snow, to do that to them. To keep them under submission.

He didn't show his uneasiness as he stepped into the jet and took his seat, where he was sure, countless other male tributes from District Five had sat on. Tributes who were now dead. He buckled himself up, and kept his heart rate in check when the jet took to the skies.

A man in a lab coat, followed by a female assistant worked his way around all the tributes, inserting a microchip in their arms. Like a GPs so they'd always know where they were in the arena. So that, in case it got too boring, they'd know where exactly to add the fun.

He clenched his jaw as he let them insert it in his arm as well. His left arm. Unlike for everyone else who it had been their right ones. He didn't so much as blink or even make eye contact with the man as he inserted it. He'd been subject to worse. To much, much worse.

They were watching him.

The careers, each and everyone of them, were watching him.

They were watching the one who had bested them all with the judges.

Glaring at him, seizing him up. Searching for weaknesses. Searching for anything that would help them take him down. He was sure they had already planned ahead. He knew he was their first target.

Get the big competition out, then worry about killing off all the others until all that was left was them. Then kill each other. Kill the ones that had their backs.

So easy to read.

He was disgusted.

Fake friendship for what? Being the victor over twenty-three dead bodies. Twenty-three teenagers who had a family. Who were loved. Who they would then need to look at their families, and explain exactly why they were killed.

It wasn't worth it.

Yet he had something to fight for. Not himself. It had never been himself. He had others, depending on him. A whole civilization was waiting for him. Searching for him. For her. He had _someone_ to fight for. A woman he loved and would —since it came to it— kill teenagers for.

He'd killed before.

He'd killed a lot of monsters through his years as a demigod.

But he'd killed demigods too.

In the Titan War it had been inevitable.

Very much so.

It's either kill or be killed.

He couldn't afford to be killed. Not when he was positively sure that Annabeth had been sucked out of that vortex with him. Not when Annabeth was here, in Panem, too. Not when she was watching.

He'd fight until he couldn't think or fight anymore.

If they tried to kill him, he'd kill them first.

He didn't realize he was clutching his armrest tightly to the point his knuckles were white, or that he was glaring, until Manila's hand rested on his.

His features relaxed, and he swallowed down.

Someone smirked from where the careers sat, and he was quick—really quick, quick as a wolf, to snap his attention to them and glare daggers through. They stopped grinning.

~.~.~.~

He'd gone livid.

They were underground, and even though it looked nothing like the dungeons he'd been locked in had, he still didn't feel good. He could hear the screams of other tormented souls in his mind. He could see the blood on the floor, sliding down on the walls, dripping from the ceiling. Yet it wasn't there. He could hear the chuckles of his tormentors, the wails of agony from all around him.

He snapped out of it.

Dorian was there with him in the room. A cot, like a hospital's on one side of the room. Then a tube, big enough for a person, on the other side. Everything looked so high-tech, he was afraid that if he touched something it would attract monsters. Monsters were the last things he needed. He didn't do anything, he just stood there, waiting for his stylist to talk.

Dorian walked off to a closer he hadn't noticed. Opened it. Then threw a pair of clothes on the cot.

"Those are not your clothes," he informed Percy. "These are."

Percy walked to the cot and examined them. They were snow pants, a long sleeved short and a somewhat blue-ish parka without the fur hood. His stomach growled. He growled. Like a wolf would.

Dorian heard it and started explaining. "From the clothes you've got, I'm expecting you to end up in a cold environment. Perhaps, snow, ice even. You'll be lucky if there's water, maybe fish. Trees would be a great advantage—"

"I know the advantages and disadvantages of what cold could mean, thank you very much."

He hadn't meant to snap, but he really didn't need to be lectured on how to survive. He'd done fine on his own for the past years of his life. He was good.

On second thoughts, he really shouldn't have snapped. Dorian had only been trying to help him out. Nothing more. Maybe he should have listened, perhaps he'd learn something new. Perhaps not. But he needed to be liked, didn't he. He needed that so that he could ask for, a big and huge favor.

"How many things am I allowed in the arena?" he asked, an apologetic tone to it, to make Dorian understand that he hadn't meant to offend him. He started to change.

"One," Dorian answered. "I'm guessing you'll be taking your necklace?"

Percy pulled the snow pants up, and then buckled them, as he looked down, his eyes landed on the five beads of his necklace. Of course he'd be taking his necklace.

"Yeah," he said.

It would be the only thing that would remind him of home. Of camp. Of his family. Of Annabeth.

He then made a show of searching his old pant's pockets, knowing that the pen he'd need would be there. His pen, Riptide, wouldn't. But, the night before he'd found a very similar looking pen around their floor. A plan had immediately wound up in his mind. One which maybe, even Annabeth would approve of.

He pulled out the replica and showed it to Dorian. "It'd mean a lot if you managed to get this to me. Through sponsors, I mean."

Dorian frowned, and took the pen, his eyes examining. "What does it do?"

"You'll find out if you managed to get it to me."

~.~.~.~

The tube had been a new experience, he must admit. He'd felt claustrophobic. He hadn't liked it. But he'd stayed steady and still. Calm and deadly. His arms were at his side, just, twitching to get his pen and uncap it. Then fight his way out. But he hadn't done that. He'd let the tube slide shut, and then, push him upwards. Where a hole had opened and light blinded him.

He immediately readjusted to the light, blinking with his eyes to do so. The light was harsher on his right eye, but that should have been expected, as it was shredded. He looked around himself, finding himself on a platform, in front of him, what he knew to be the cornucopia. All sorts of equipment in it. Bags with supplies in between him and the build. There were spears, swords, knifes, javelins, bows, arrows, and many more weapons. He'd only need a sword. Everything else he could do without. Although maybe the bags…

If there was food and water it would help a lot.

Water.

That would help a _lot_.

Although, as he looked around at where he was, he didn't think water would be such a problem. Ice. Ice and snow. All over. Them tributes were in a circle around the cornucopia, and then a few yards away from their circle, the tree line started. Good. Trees, would mean good enough cover. Places to hide. Places to sleep…

The snow could be melted to get water, to it wouldn't be a problem, especially if he could help with the melting, which he could…

Manila was somewhere to his right. He locked eyes on her as a sound like a cannon being fired sounded. She nodded at him. She would run as soon as they could step off their platform. She would run in the direction her platform was, she would run straight for the trees. He'd look when she would do so, and then from there, he'd simply track her down.

He on the other hand, he'd go straight for the cornucopia. Get a sword, a backpack or two. Then get the hell out. He knew this was the worst time. The bloodbath, they called it. The bloodbath of the cornucopia.

The holographic timer on the cornucopia started its countdown. Each time the number changed, the cannon sounded again. It was like a steady heart beat.

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He was ready to sprint. He saw he wasn't the only one, each and every other career looked like he did. But they weren't demigods. They weren't used to this like he was. He was born to live like this. And he'd done it, for a very long time.

The timer hit zero. He didn't waist a heartbeat. He was off, leaping through the ice like a cheetah would—if they lived on ice. Which they didn't, but that was beside the point. He was yards and yards ahead of everyone else. Everyone. He caught the direction Manila went off into from the corner of his eyes but then he'd reached the cornucopia. He grabbed a sword. It was too heavy and badly balanced. He dropped it quickly and searched for another.

Gods dammit! He scolded himself. He couldn't be picky about swords. Not now. He grabbed another but then it was slammed out of his hands before he could acknowledge what he didn't like about it and what was good. He immediately docked, out of instinct and the a knife embedded itself on the wall, right opposite to where his head had been moments before.

His fingers slipped around the hilt of the sword and as he turned around, he swung it. It slashed right through the parka, and right to flesh and bones. He'd gone deep. The girl —from four he knew— looked shocked, she fell to the ground a second later.

"That's not good," he muttered.

Then there was another sword slamming into his and he sidestepped the next blow. _Seriously inexperienced_ , he thought as he watched the arch slash through air.

"Tsk, tsk," he said disapprovingly as he watched it stab nothing but the wall. Then in one quick motion he had the boy from two's hand gripped in his. He stepped closer, then head butted him in the face so hard, he would suspect it to be a killing blow. He didn't have the time for suspicions. He had to be sure. This one wouldn't hesitate to kill him next time. He stabbed through him.

He quickly averted his gaze, to find that the other careers had already flocked the cornucopia and where killing off other tributes. He didn't think much about it. He couldn't afford to. He grabbed an assortments of knifes, all hanging from the same belt, then he moved out of the cornucopia. He grabbed a bag from the floor when he felt something pierce his shoulder. He growled, and turned around to see the girl from two —surely trying to avenge her mate— run towards him, other knifes in her hands, ready to throw them.

He yanked the knife in his shoulder out, and then hurtled it at her. He didn't wait to see if he'd hit home, although he did hear her scream. He would get her another time. Now he needed to get going, otherwise Manila's footprints might fade. He couldn't afford that either. So he grabbed another bag from off the floor —carrying two in total— and headed to the trees.

~.~.~.~

Annabeth wasn't sure she was breathing. The games had started, and she hadn't moved from her spot on the floor, since they had. She'd seen every second, and every murder of the bloodbath. She shouldn't have watched it, because his face as he had killed them would hunt her for a while, but she hadn't managed to peel her eyes off the screen. She had to know whether he was killed, and he almost had been.

So early in, he'd already gotten an injury.

She had tried to tune out the reactions from the Lewis family. But she'd felt nothing but pride when their reactions had come to shock and surprise when her boy had killed those two tributes with such easiness. It had then turned to horror, because of how easily he'd done it. How merciless he'd been when he'd stabbed the boy from two, without hesitation.

She'd felt horror in that, too, but for a different reason altogether. Whilst for them it was because they thought he was a brute less killer, she knew he wasn't. She'd seen his eyes, at the very moment he had raised his sword. Seen how shattered they were, how little choice he had. How helpless the situation had been. He wanted to win. The boy from two, had tried to kill him, and would try to again had Percy left him alive.

It was either now or later.

Kill or be killed.

Then he'd moved, decided to get out of the cornucopia and no doubt run after the girl from his same district. She knew, that the dagger he'd picked weren't for her, because he wasn't a dagger fighter. He fought with swords, and if things got tricky then he'd trade it for a spear, he didn't fight with knifes. Although she had not doubt he'd exceed in it.

Then the girl from two, had thrown a dagger at him, and it had hit home. His right shoulder. He should have screamed, cried out, or at least shown he was hurt. Yet he hadn't. He'd simply yanked it out, and threw it back at the girl, with bad aim. The shot had zoomed in to where the dagger had hit, and Cesear Flickerman had said, "Good with a sword but not so much with his aim?"

She wanted to punch out his perfect teeth.

It was a good few minutes before another shot if him appeared on the screen, and he had reached the other girl, Manila.

Her eyes had immediately trailed to the blood on his back, how she had seen it, Annabeth didn't know, but she had. And of this girl would be responsible to keep her Seaweed Brain to keep himself from getting killed by wound infections, then she'd hope the best for her.

"You're hurt," she had told him.

That would not be the right thing to tell him. She knew as a fact that he didn't feel pain like she did anymore. Like anyone did. He'd been hurt and shredded so much that it would take much more than a stab wound to his shoulder to get a reaction out of him.

"I'm fine," he had said, and she knew that he'd say that even if he wasn't. But, he really did look fine, like it wasn't hurting him to have a hole in his back. Perhaps, the cold was helming with the pain. She could only hope. Like she could only hope that Manila wouldn't let him win this easily.

"Did you kill any?" the girl had asked, as he had lowered to the ground and swung his backpacks down to the ground.

He nodded, and his eyes widened a little bit. It was almost unnoticeable, but she saw it clearly. She knew he felt bad. Even though he hadn't known them. He'd always feel bad for them. Even though they had tried to kill him, even though they wouldn't have felt a single bit of what he was feeling. He was special that way. They'd been innocent. They hadn't killed anyone yet. He had killed them before they could.

His sword fell to the ground and she did stop breathing. The blood stained the white snow. It resembled what she saw in her soul every time she looked at it. Something pure, stained red by everything she'd killed. By how she'd taken life after life.

"The girl from four, and…the boy from two." Whatever he was feeling inside, it didn't show in his voice. She could see it though, in his eyes.

She smiled at him reassuringly. Then crouched down to the backpacks. He followed suit, then opened one of the backpack as she opened the other one. They set everything out on the snow. In order to be able to know exactly what they had and how it would help them. Then they'd divide the things in two, so that if they ever got separated, they'd both have enough supply to save keep themselves alive.

They had one blanket. A box of matchsticks. An empty canteen. Several packs of dried crackers. Three different ropes. Wires. Bandages. Gloves. A scarf. And some alcohol.

He told her to let him divide. She protested, in the end it didn't change anything.

He gave her the blanket, and the box of matchsticks although he divided that in half and then put them loosely in his own back. He filled the canteen with snow and then put it in his backpack, only because it would put weight to it. He divided the crackers. Gave himself two ropes and her one. Again, regarding the weight it would add to her pack which would no doubt slow her down. There was a somewhat even amount of bandages and he divided that too along with the wires. She kept the alcohol and then he had her choose between the scarf and the gloves, since she wouldn't take both. She took the gloves.

Cesear's face appeared on half of the screen. "It looks like he's giving her everything."

It looked exactly like that.

Annabeth was ready to go in that arena and demand he take something as well. But then the girl did start protesting.

A lot.

She even threatened him, telling him she'd castrate him, but he didn't budge.

He took one of the daggers from the belt and then handed her the rest. She quickly buckled it around her waist whilst he slid his lone one down his boot. It didn't look comfortable as she knew it never was. Though it was something.

Then she pointed out what Annabeth was still mildly worried about. "You're still hurt."

He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Doesn't he feel it?" Jake asked from behind her.

"I'm not…sure," she replied slowly. She couldn't exactly tell him how he was basically immune to things like those after everything. She opted into a half truth.

He dropped his back and started removing his parka. "The matchstick are in the front pocket."

She ignored him —luckily for her, or Annabeth would gut her— and went for her own. Once she had them out and he had taken out his dagger —right after he'd found a comfortable spot for it to lay. He took one of the matchsticks and stroked it on the side of the box, and the stick lit aflame. He held it over the blade.

"You're not actually thinking about putting that on your wound, do you?" she asked him, as she took another matchstick and followed his example, in order to hit up the blade faster.

Annabeth felt respect for the girl and all, because after all, she was _trying_ to take care of him. Like he her. Big emphasis on trying, because he never let anyone take care of him. It was always the other way. He always put others before himself, and that sucked.

He looked at her, he was dead serious. A face Annabeth knew he hadn't shown her yet, her expression told her enough about that. It was as though the realization of what was happening really had settled in him. It had snapped something in him. Something that hadn't been there during the interviews. Something she'd seen when they'd gone to rescue him from the Giants. The same something that had snapped when he had undoubtedly lost it in those dungeons.

"It'll get infected if I don't," he said calmly, like he was completely in control. Unlike he didn't have a hole in his back. "And if you don't help me do it, it'll be harder than it needs to be, because I can't see it and I may as well end up stabbing myself in the back."

She was about to respond to what he'd just said but then he moved. He took of his shirt. Her eyes widened. Her breath hitched. Everyone around her gasped. She didn't blame them. He seemed to slowly come to the realization that it was cold and that he'd die this way, would he stay like this for long, but then he seemed to full on regret his choice as he clenched his hands and averted his eyes from his body.

She'd seen them before, the scars. She'd seen them bleed when they'd went in to rescue him. Seen him, curled in the corner of what they called a cell, shivering from the cold. Huddled up on himself. Now, that she saw them again, they weren't bleeding anymore, but they looked just as horrible, yet so beautiful.

Thousands and thousands of people were watching. From the Districts and from the Capitol, and he'd just showed them just how badly scarred he was. He'd just showed them how vulnerable he would have once been. His was the body of a warrior now. The scars and the muscles…

If he was uneasy, he didn't show it. He kept his cool.

"What happened to him?" Mrs. Lewis asked her.

She didn't respond. She didn't know what to say. She was glad when the mayor's wife didn't ask again, didn't push her for an answer she didn't want to give. Glad that she had understood.

He gave Manila, who had gone completely still, luckily her hands still posed so that the flame was still burning the blade, and fortunately, she hadn't dropped of. He gently grabbed her hand and guided it to his back. Where he then let go and her own hand moved over the wound, the blade an inch away. She was hesitating.

"Do it, Manila," he pushed her, his voice deadly calm. "Then put snow on it. It won't hurt. I promise."

The girl still hesitated. "Are you sure?"

He seemed exasperated. "Manila, I'm half naked. In the middle of nothing but snow and ice. If that wound doesn't kill, then the cold will for sure."

That got her moving, she pressed the blade to his wound and Annabeth really hoped he'd show some reaction to it. To a burning white blade pressed to a wound. He didn't. She knew he didn't really need to go through the whole 'burning the wound to kill the bacteria' process. He could have simply put a big patch of snow on it and since it would have melted it would have then healed his wound completely.

He couldn't do that though. Not without showing he had supernatural powers that he was not meant to have. Things would get complicated after that. Snow could even have him killed for showing he had those powers. Even if Gaea had told him not to kill them unless other tributes did. So he'd do it the traditional way, and he wouldn't cheat. Not visually.

When the burning blade was then replaced by the snow, she could see it immediately, the good it was doing. Some steam flowed up in the air and the snow quickly melted because of his body heat. It trickled down his back and she saw him shiver.

Then it was over. He was swinging his shirt on him again, easily moving his shoulder, where the would had now turned a dark shade of brown where the skin had been burned. He quickly put his parka back on and zipped it up. He bent down and picked up his sword, not glancing at the blood twice before he took a fist of snow and wiped it over the blade, cleaning it from the blood.

He stood back up and Manila handed him the dagger she'd used to clog up his wound. He thanked her and then slipped it back in his boot, where it would remain, it seemed.

Manila was still staring at him with a dreary expression.

He sighed, and Annabeth had the idea that he knew exactly what she was silently asking. He ran his hand through his hair as he said, in a monotone, "My father used to beat me when I was younger."

He started walking. Good, staying still for too long could kill them.

"Beat you?" Manila asked incredulously as she caught pace with him. "With knifes?"

He kept staring ahead. "No," he said. "With his belt."

That would explain why they were long and like whip-lashes. A belt. Smart. He was using his head. Gods what had the world come to.

~.~.~.~

They had kept walking until nightfall had hit. Going always in the same direction, never turning, never steering. Always in the same direction. As far away from the cornucopia as they could. Perhaps, they'd even hit the end of they continued. He just hoped they wouldn't run into other tributes, he didn't want to kill anymore. It had only started, yet he already didn't want to kill anymore. He wanted it to be done.

They'd stopped once it had become too dark to see where they were going. He didn't want to risk a fire, so they didn't make one. They shared one pack of dried crackers and then got comfy for the night. He already offering to take first watch, she turned him down, saying that he'd been hurt and he'd need to sleep. Then when he had started arguing, she then also added that if he was to be her 'protector' he might as well be worth something.

He'd laughed at that and then silently agreed to let her take first watch, but to wake him as soon as she wanted to sleep.

Then they'd both gotten under the fleece blanket —thank the gods it was fleece— in order to preserve body heat. It was still cold, but he doubted they'd die this way.

.

 **Next chapter will be more of somhting I think. Stay tuned to find out and I hope you enjioyed this one.**

 **Hunter**


	6. Part 1 - Chapter 5

**hello there...**

 **there's nothing really to say so just please enjoy:**

 **Warning (?): Death involved**

 **.**

 **X-X-Part 1-Chapter 5-X-X**

 **...**

He was awoken by a loud noise, and when he opened his eyes he found Manila still awake, looking at the sky. When he looked in the direction she was looking at, he noticed why. There was this huge hologram of the emblem of the Capitol. The anthem playing all around.

Then the face of the boy from two appeared, the district he came for displayed below it. Then the female male from three. The female he'd killed from four. The girl from six. Both tributes from seven. The female from nine. The girl from ten and from eleven. Both from twelve.

He counted them. They were twelve.

Already half of the competition was dead. He hadn't heard the cannons he knew should have gone off. He was probably too concentrated to hear them. He didn't say anything to Manila. Just stood up from where he was laying and then walked a few yards away. She didn't offer anything. She didn't say anything.

He was glad about that.

His hands were clenched in fists.

Twelve teenagers.

Twelve children dead for the entertainment of the people of the capitol.

He punched the tree in front of him. Denting it. The bark bending at an odd angle.

He punched it again.

And again.

Then he got down, on all fours. Extended his legs further behind him and let himself drop to the ground, catching himself when his arms were at a ninety degree angle. Then he pushed himself up. Lowered himself. Pushed up. Lowered down. Pushed up. His head held high. He didn't blink. He didn't whine. He continued. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. When his arms strained he didn't stop. He continued.

~.~.~.~

The next day it was only one that died. Only one to lose his life. The boy from ten. So both tributes from ten were out.

~.~.~.~

On the third day the male from six and female from three died. Which meant that District Six's tributes were gone as were District Three's. Something in his gut told him that these two had not been checked off by careers, but by someone else. Perhaps two someones else.

He had yet to see the face from the males from either eight and eleven. The two that had caught his eyes during training hours. He'd seen them mingle with one another and perhaps, they would have tried allying with him, but they hadn't. Maybe it was something he'd done, he wasn't sure, yet they hadn't asked, even though they had seemed like they really had wanted to.

Percy hadn't offered because one person was enough, one person to care about during these games. To rely on. He didn't need to add these two unfamiliar guys, from other districts to his burden. As he knew it, they'd probably kill him the moment they were all that was left, and he'd turn his back. No, Manila was good for him. Good company and she kept him anchored down.

~.~.~.~

On the fourth day, no one died. Although he and Manila came very close to. Apparently they'd been way too far off where the game-makers didn't want them and geysers had shot up from cracks in the ice. Boiling hot water that had blasted him off his feet.

Yes, it had hit him, and it would have killed him had he not been the son of Poseidon and therefore, immune to this sort thing. Although he had been hurt. Quite severely. They'd been forced to run away, to avoid them. He'd lost his shoes though —actually only about half, the soul had been melted and it was very close to having melted off completely. Yet, his feet had been burned and he yearned to simply dump them in the snow and heal them.

He couldn't do that, obviously.

Not without cheating.

Seeing as though it had hit him right on point, he didn't put it beneath the game-makers to kill him off directly. Perhaps a bullet to the chest.

So he endured the pain.

Manila had offered he take her shoes, since she wasn't injured and hers were entirely intact. Even though he tried arguing…he was finding she was getting good at winning. So they swapped shoes, although he did try to fix them using some of the tools they had.

No cannons sounded that day. He was glad that way, meaning no teen had been brutally slaughtered this day. One side of him was disappointed. It meant he'd have to stay in the arena for longer. And he had no idea how he was going to last any more in this ice cold place.

He'd never again hate the warm. Not when that nights the game-makers lowered the temperature where his lips turned blue and even after they were cuddling, and had a fire —big risk there for the smoke— they were both trembling like hanging sticks in the wind. Their teeth chattering. Clanking against one another to the point if actually ached his jaw.

"I know you're going to win," Manila told him. "You've got in you. It's like you've done this before. I would think you had except…it's impossible."

He looked at her and grimaced. "I won't kill you."

He wouldn't. He knew he wouldn't be able to. Not when the time came for him to do so. He wouldn't be able to distinguish the beautiful life that was Manila Evermore. He would never be able to. If he did he wasn't sure he'd survive.

 _They need you,_ a voice whispered at the back of his brain. Annabeth _needs you_.

Then he'd find a way.

"The others will, then," she said, and she didn't sound afraid. Not at all. "I know I won't win, but…I want to survive for as long as I can. Be satisfied that when I die, I'll know I'll have made it to somewhat close end."

"You'll make it to the end," he reassured her. "I'll make sure of that."

"And then what?" she challenged. "I kill you? You know I can't, even if I wanted to."

"Maybe I won't make it to the end," he told her. "Whilst you do. Maybe that choice never has to come."

"I hope you're right."

~.~.~.~

Day five, somehow in the morning they were still alive and he had heard one single cannon be fired, indicating that someone else had died due to the cold. Or perhaps the cold hadn't been everywhere and only in one single part of the arena, precisely where they were.

He made a note, that if he ever managed to get out of this mess he was in, with the Capitol and perhaps even when Gaea had hopefully been sent back to her slumber, he was going to put the game-makers in an area, and put them through everything he'd been subject to because of them. Oh, he just wanted to see them then.

Around midday two cannons sounded, fairly close to one another, which meant that two packs had clashed and perhaps, only one was left standing or, one had died from each. He wasn't sure which was better. He only hoped that at least one of the careers had been the cause of the cannon.

It was sick, the way even he had started to feel about these games. He was _hoping_ that one of them had been killed. How much worse would it get before it would be good again. How much would he have to go through to right everything that had been done. He hoped, against reason, that it wasn't _too_ much. That it wouldn't break him further than what he'd already been broken.

When the anthem played at midnight, Percy saw the face of the girl from one, dead. He sighed, somewhat contently, perhaps another career had been killed, hopefully the guy from two or four since the guy from one was out of the question.

No, the second death had been the male from eleven. Meaning that yet another District was without tributes now. With the help of Manila, they sorted out through who they knew had died, and who hadn't, and came up with the conclusion that there were only a rough seven people left in the arena. Two of them, they were. Three, were the careers. One was the boy from eight and then someone else. Someone…— The male from nine. Who had somehow managed through all this time.

At least Manila was still alive…

~.~.~.~

On the sixth day, one cannon sounded, and when the anthem played, the face of the thirteen year old boy form nine was displayed on it. He'd died after all. For some reason, he could only guess that the careers got to him, but hoped against it and that he died because of a more natural cause, like starvation, or because he froze to death. Better than be murdered by a teenager.

~.~.~.~

Day seven had passed without much happening, except at night, when the parachute arrived. He'd run to it immediately, closely followed by Manila.

"That, is surely for you," Manila had said as he yanked if out of the tree branch it had been stuck in between.

He unscrewed the lid only to find a piece of paper. ' _I don't know what this is for, Dorian said you needed it. D &G._'

He then took off the second layered cap and grinned like a madman. Finally. He'd been waiting for it, for the hope to be able to use it and discard the awfully balanced sword he'd been carrying around for a week. It was so bad. The baked itself wasn't balanced well. The hilt was too heavy for his liking and the pummel was this weird shape which always caught his hand… and then there was leather surrounding the grip, which he always hated so much.

"That's a pen," Manila pointed out. "Why would you need a pen?"

He kept on grinning as he picked it up and dropped the case it had been in, on the ground. "You'll see," he said as he put in his pocket, the same one where Riptide had always lain for the whole goddam time. It's presence was almost mocking. But now…now the game-makers couldn't do anything, they would have most likely checked it, over and over again for any tricks, they'd be surprised that when he used his other 'pen' it would transform into a sword. A glowing sword.

~.~.~.~

It was over the moment he heard the scream.

He'd been sleeping, then someone had screamed.

He immediately jumped to his feet and looked around himself, where was Manila?

Bile started swelling up in his throat immediately. What if the scream had been hers? What if she was dying? What if she was already dead? What if the careers and taken her and were torturing—

Another scream split the air.

That was definitely her. It was her voice. Her voice. Her… The one that had made him laugh during the train ride to the Capitol. The one that had been by her side during their week at the Training Centre. The one he loved to hear laugh, to make laugh. The one that had kept him alive during the past week. That had grounded him to the present and hadn't let him slip to his past.

She'd understood his secretes and hadn't pried. And now—now someone was hurting her.

They were hurting her for some reason he didn't know. Was it to get him to come out. The careers knew he had stuck with her. He was sure they knew. So where they hurting her to get to him? He would gladly go to them of it meant they stopped hurting her. He'd go to them, and then slaughter them all. Quickly and swiftly.

He didn't think twice before bolting through the woods. Leaving all their possessions behind for whoever would fall upon them to do so and steal them away. He doubted anyone would. There were only six competitors left. Six, and there would soon be less, if he got his hands around the throat of the one that was causing her the pain. That was hurting her enough to make her scream—

Another scream.

She continued to scream, and it chilled him to the bones and he brought out his pen. Uncapping it, because as soon as he saw the person doing that to her, as soon as he saw him he would kill him. Viciously and mercilessly. Screw the quick part. He would take his time with them. With all of them. He would bet his life to know that they had been the mass murderers in this sick game of the Capitol. That they'd taken all the life's that had been lost. They'd taken the majority.

He knew it.

He knew it.

He knew it.

He saw her. He stopped running. He took it in. There was blood everywhere on the snow. Even in the dark, he could see it. It seemed as though the game-makers had lit this place up more than they had the rest of the arena. So he could see it. So they could unleash the beats that lay beneath his skin. They knew who he was. They knew his flaws. They knew and…they were letting him see it so it would snap him.

So it would give the Capitol the show they wanted.

A kid going on a killing spree.

He'd give them that.

And when he'd get out of this arena, he'd go on a killing spree in the Capitol. Engulf it in a huge tidal wave and kill everyone in it.

But—…there was so much blood.

He hadn't heard the cannon yet, then maybe—

His eyes zeroed on the person on top of her. A dead man walking. The boy from four. Looked around his own age too, and he held a candle in one hand —they were a possibility too?— and a white hot dagger in the other.

Percy started walking, deathly calm towards the boy. He threw the dagger and Percy merely sidestepped. The boy was quick to get up and run away. Not fleeing, Percy knew, leading him to his pack where they then hoped to kill him off.

He let him go, keeping in mind where he'd gone, but instead he hurried to Manila's side and dropped on his knees next to her. He ran his eyes over her to get a good look of where her injuries were and if perhaps, there was a way to heal her, save her from dying. She'd been slashed, several times on her chest, but none of them looked to be too deep but they were smoking. She'd been burned and, she looked unable to move. Paralyzed? Her face had a nasty gash on the side of her temple, leaking with too much blood. Her eyes looked dead, but she was still alive.

He set his sword down and tried, desperately tried to save her. He unzipped her parka to get a better view of her wounds, her arm was bent at a funny angle and her legs, they were bleeding at the thighs. Two holes in each of them.

"I am very glad…" she rasped out. "To have had…the pleasure…to meet you."

He took his own parka off, and ripped it, literally, to pieces. Until they were the size he wanted them to be and he put them over his chest. He pressed on the wounds, clogging them, somewhat stopping the blood flow.

"Shh," he told. "You're not dead. And you're not going to die. Just hold on." He swallowed hard, feeling the tears brim in his eyes, practically rendering his right eye uselessly blind.

"You're a terrible liar," she told him slowly. "I know I'm dying."

He shook his head, and the tears leaked through. He then noticed the cloth he was holding to her wound was soaked in blood. He took his coat and used his teeth and one hand —while the other kept keeping the pressure on her wounds— to rip it apart, then he added the piece of fabric to the one soaked with blood.

Deep down he realized it was useless, knew it was useless.

He grabbed her hand in his his bloodied one, and squeezed tightly. His other hand kept on trying to keep the blood in.

"The pen," she rasped out. "It turns into a weapon, doesn't it?"

He nodded and showed her Riptide. "My father gave it to me, when I was younger."

"You said your father beat you," she said. He shook his head, more tears leaking out, but before he could explain she said, "It's glowing."

He chuckled. "Yeah…it does that."

"I'm sure your Anna, is a lucky woman," she then said. "Thank you—"

"No!" Percy protested. "Don't," he added in a whisper.

"Percy…Jackson…"

Her hand slowly went slack in his. Her eyes stared at him. They stared at him until they lost their light. Until they got dull. Hollow. Lifeless. They looked like his in terms of liveliness. Yet, they were dead. His weren't, not yet. They were still open. Still beautiful. But they were hollow. They were empty. The life wasn't shining in them anymore. Life wasn't shining in _her_ anymore.

She was dead.

Manila Evermore was dead.

He slowly, hesitantly —as if wishing that if he took time, they would turn back to life— he reached to her eyes and closed them, gently. Closing his own as he did so. That would be the last time she saw them.

A cannon sounded.

He let go of her hand. Opened his eyes and stared at her. The artwork the boy from District Four had done to her body. It was sick.

The tears stopped coming. The grief went down. His eyes cleared as best as they could.

He silently swore to himself, that whatever it took, he was going to bring down this place. He was going to rebel, he was going to kill all those responsible, starting with the careers now, then later ending with President Snow himself. He would be damned if he walked away without doing anything. If he went back home without having freed these people from the tyranny of the Capitol. The war with Gaea would have to wait. And it would. For now, all he cared about was bringing down the Capitol.

The first action of order was to win the stupid games and _go back_ to the Capitol. In order to do that, he'd need to kill the remaining competitors. Only four lives which would stain his soul forever. Only four children which he'd need to kill. Only four.

He gripped the hilt of Riptide and stood. Deadly calm. The deadly calm overtaking him. His calm demeanor which would keep him from doing reckless choices and mistakes, which would have him eradicate the remaining tributes off this arena.

He was ready to do so.

Or so he told himself.

He started sprinting in the direction the boy from four had gone. After a minute of doing so, he didn't need or keep track of where he'd gone through the footprints he'd left in the snow. No, after a minute he could see him, weaving through the woods coated with snow. So he ran faster. Faster than he'd run before. He ran like a madman, somehow managing to see through the night. Through the darkness.

He pounced and then all he knew was that he was on top of him. Pinning him to the ground. His knees digging into his arms, his dagger still in his hand, still coated with the blood of Manila. Still coated with her blood. Seeing it, it snapped something in Percy, and the boy could see it, he looked scared. He should be scared.

Percy set his sword to the side and yanked the dagger out of his hands, examining the blood on it, still fresh, like the corpse this boy had left behind.

He shook his head, ticking it from one side to the other as he lowered the dagger of the boy's throat. "Tsk, tsk," he said disapprovingly. "That girl you just killed—" He leaned down and then whispered in his ear, "It was the worst mistake you've ever made. One, for which you will pay, dearly. With your life."

He leaned back and looked at the expression of terror on the boy's face. He grinned before he then remembered of Annabeth. She might be watching, he reminded himself. She might have seen everything that had happened, with Manila. He didn't care that she had seen that, but he would care if she saw how he'd planned to kill this teen.

He'd care a great deal about that. He had been tormented in very colorful and unique ways. He doubted he'd be able to use them on him, but he would have tried to make it entertaining and gruesome. Not swift and quick. No, he would have done something that could even drag on for hours to no end. He knew just where he could slash, where to stab and the boy would still remain alive. He also knew, the quick ways to end his life without hurting him at all. Making it painless.

Then another thought passed through his mind. The family of this boy —he was his age— they were most likely looking, their hearts beating in their throat at seeing their son at the mercy of the man who had shown no weaknesses except for the girl and loyalty. He put himself in his family's shoes —something he knew the boy hadn't done when he'd killed Manila— but he wasn't this boy. He was Percy Jackson, and he wouldn't let the Capitol rule his way into his head.

He looked at the boy in the face. "I think my morale might have just saved you from what should have been inevitable torture, the same kind you put my dear friend, Manila, through. But you know what I'm thinking about? That you have someone, a mother, a father, perhaps a sister, maybe even a girl, watching you from your district. Friends perhaps, too. A whole family. So I'm thinking, they're probably already worried enough about you, that perhaps, I shouldn't torture you like you tortured my friend."

The boy looked relieved and maybe…grateful, but that expression soon faded as Percy continued. "But then, I think back on how you didn't offer the same thing to my friend, Manila, and I am really wondering whether I should offer it to you. Because that side, the one that is longing to see your blood spilled and splattered on this snow, to hear you scream like she screamed, is really working hard to take control. So you tell me. What do you think you deserve?"

"Please," the boy said. "I'm sorry. It was a trap for you—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. Percy plunged the dagger deep into his heart. Killing him instantly. A cannon sounded immediately after and he threw the dagger away from himself and the boy, whose mouth was still open, eyes were still pleading. He didn't bother with closing them. He stood and brushed himself off, suddenly starting to feel cold, with the missing of his parka around his body.

He didn't even think about taking the one of the boy he'd just killed, he simply walked away, in the direction that the boy had been running towards, guessing that it was were he'd meet the other two careers, and perhaps, hopefully, the one from eight would already be gone by that time.

He heard what strangely sounded like a jet and when he looked back, towards where the bodies of two teenagers lay, he could indeed seem a jet descending from the sky. Where it had come from, he had no idea. There was this type of huge pincers that was lowered from the jet and into the tree line. When it came back up, he could recognize the hair flowing in the air, the light illuminating her features, even though very far away. Then she was in the jet. The vehicle came closer to him but stopped yards away, to pick up the boy. Then it was flying away, in the night's darkness where Percy couldn't see it anymore.

He was about to continue walking when the anthem of the Capitol started playing. Then the face of the boy appeared in the sky, and then Manila's. As quickly as it had come, it was gone, silenced reining over him. That very silence, was deafening. It was crushing. And he hated it for it. He shuddered, but he'd kept walking. He had to keep moving, he wasn't going to die because of the cold. He simply was not.

He'd find the others, and then he'd end it. Whatever it took to survive, at this point.

He'd do it.

.

 **This escalated quickly and...cliffhanger...sort of (?)**

 **Review and follow please, it really ups me for motivation to continue the story further and make you people more interested. Next chapter is cooler and weird but also crappy bcs you'll see. Then the one after that...things go worse than they would need to be. My bad.**

 **Hunter**


	7. Part 1 - Chapter 6

**Hello and welcome back:**

 **Warning bcs it might be idk: _insanity, death_ yeah if it may trigger you then read at your own risk**

 **.**

 **X-X-Part 1-Chapter 6-X-X**

 **...**

He heard them before he saw them. The clashing of sword on sword, the clanging of metal on metal. He heard it and immediately adrenaline started to curse through him, he swore. Not now. Not now. It was the last thing he needed, to have his limbs feel like lead. To have his heart racing against time. He couldn't afford it.

He heard the words right before the cannon came, "This is for my friend!"

The a scream split the air and a cannon followed.

Percy didn't need to see to know that the boy from eight had just been killed by the one from one. Which meant that the boy from eight had managed to kill the girl from one when —he was now sure— he'd clashed with the careers, with his buddy from eleven. Great effort from him, unlucky ending, though. For all of them. Himself included.

There were only three of them left now. Himself and two others. Two careers who would no doubt be ready to hunt him down at the moment. The boy, Kevin, from one, and the girl, Sasha, from one. A sword, and arrows. Little did they know, they already been hunted down by him.

The hunters had become the hunted.

He slowly and stealthily stepped closer, making sure he remained unheard and unseen, years of a life as a demigod giving him that stealth. He reached the point where he could hear them.

"—go after him!" the girl was saying. "He's in that direction. We can take him!"

There was hesitation from the boy, Kevin. "Mmh, I'm not sure, we have to plan this right. I saw him kill Luciana and Kiro with precise movements. We need a plan, we can't go after him now. Not when he'll probably be angry for the girl."

"That's exactly why we sent Ethan down to get him to come into us—"

"Yeah," Kevin said sarcastically. "That sure was a good plan, since he killed Ethan. That would have been three against one. Now it's only two, and you can't even fight in close combat."

"My bow is weapon enough in close combat," she said. "We can take him, Kev. We just gotta try. Hunt him down before he gets away—"

Percy couldn't wait any longer, he stepped out of his hiding spot behind the tree and made himself very visible and audible. He walked towards them, taking out Riptide and uncapping it. Watching as their faces went full with surprise and then shock because they were talking about him, and he was there.

Talk of devil and he shall come.

He continued to step towards them, even when the girl, Sasha, notched an arrow in her bow and fired it. H merely sidestepped, which resulted in her simply notching the arrow, without firing it. Aiming at him. Kevin on the other hand gripped the hilt of his sword tighter.

"I'm afraid I won't be going anywhere," he said calmly as he looked down at the dead body of the sixteen year old from District Eight. He didn't let his lifeless eyes get to him. He looked back at the careers, at Kevin. "Would have never thought to hear you're afraid of me."

"Not afraid," Kevin told him, his voice steady as he twisted the hilt of the blade in his hands. Percy stopped approaching them, standing little less than five yards away from them. "Just cautious."

"Of what?" Percy asked causally. "Me?" He chuckled softly. "So this is the end, three of us left. I can only imagine what must be going through your minds."

"That you're dead," Sasha said, and let loose her arrow. He swiftly sidestepped, then broke into a run at the same time Kevin did.

During that split second they were running at each other, Percy noted everything he'd need to know about what sort of fighter this teen really was. Unfortunately for him, he doubted he was as stupid and bad as the other ones he'd killed. This one had an inkling of what he was doing.

What was worse, Sasha kept shooting her arrows. Some narrowly missed him.

Then his sword clashed with Kevin's and the other teen was forced to step back because of the raw force Percy had exhibited in that one single blow. It was nothing compared to how he usually would fight, but it'd be enough to have him be weary. Not that he wasn't already.

But Kevin was quick to recover and try to hit him with his own blow. Something Percy parroted off and attacked back on his own. Then he decided that perhaps, he could end it quickly. He wiped his legs at Kevin's and kicked his feet from under him. Kevin fell, his knees hitting the ground hardly, making a very unsatisfying noise.

He leveled his sword at his throat, ready to make the final move, and then move on to the girl. Only, Kevin spoke.

"How did she look like, when she died?"

Percy stilled and it was exactly what Kevin had hoped for. Because then a second later an arrow pierced his arm, and then Kevin was back on his feet and then he was kicking at Percy's sword making it clatter to the ground at the very same time the demigod had crouched down to get the dagger from his boot. He threw it —at the same time his sword fell out of his grip— at the girl. It hit home.

She fell backwards. Dead before she hit the floor.

Percy's vision was blinded for a moment, blue eyes—dead blue eyes were in front of him. And— there was so much blood. His hands were full of it. They were still dirty. His clothes were still dirty. Blood coated him everywhere on him.

He tried to reaching for his sword, a boot crashed down on his left hand. Before he could acknowledge that his hand has just been broken, fracture in so many tiny places, a foot connected with his gut. Then he was sent spiraling backwards. His head hit something and he saw black for a second or two.

Why was he so weak.

Why was he letting Kevin beat him.

…

He'd failed her.

That was why.

He'd failed her.

He'd been _sleeping_ , while she'd been _tortured_. Tortured because they had wanted to get to him, to find him. She'd been tortured because of him. Killed because of him, her family, a beautiful family, would never see their daughter Manila again. Her brother, would never see her sister again. Ever again.

It was his fault.

It should have been him.

Why was he coming to this realization now? Why hadn't it come when he'd been by her side? Why did it need to happen when he was at the mercy—at the mercy of his enemy. Of an eighteen year old that had been taught how to fight so he could one day win the games would he be chosen, or would he choose to volunteer like he had.

Why was he letting him.

He had a war to fight. One that did not take place here. One that—

His vision cleared. Like it wanted to warn him. Warn him that he was about to lose something very important. He saw Kevin, looming over him. He couldn't see him well, there was blood in his eyes. Yet, he could see the arrows he held in each hand.

Then his ears exploded, and he yelled. For the first time in months, he felt new pain. For the first time in months, he yelled in that same pain. Then he couldn't hear his yells anymore. He was nothing. He could hear nothing. Nothing at all. He might as well die.

Then he was stabbed through the gut, and he gasped.

"Annabeth," he said. He wasn't sure how loudly, he knew he opened his mouth and did what he usually did when he spoke, but he didn't hear it. He only felt it.

His hands clutched the snow beneath him. He clutched it like his life depended on it. Which it did. He felt that feeling in his gut. Like something was twisting around. He felt it and then, even after the sword had been yanked out, he felt relief flood him. From where the wound had caved a hole in his back, the snow healed him, kept him alive.

It was out of his control. There was blood coming out of his ears. A lot of it.

He was dying.

He knew he was.

Annabeth.

Something collided with his face, he felt his nose break, he didn't hear it, but he felt it. Then there was a blade stabbing him again. And again.

With every stab wound he gained, he repeated her name in his mind. Over and over again. It gave him strength, it gave him more will to fight. It gave him a reason to fight. He could barely see Kevin, above him, desperately trying to kill him. Little did he know, like this, he was as good as immortal. On snow, on his solidified element. He was.

Poseidon.

His father was somewhere. A prisoner of war like he'd been. Probably being put to torments similar like his own. Probably worse.

Annabeth.

She was out there somewhere, she was out there, and he would not give up, not for her. Not for any of his friends who were fighting a war outside of this country. Who were fighting their own friends. Who were fighting the very earth. He only hoped they'd hold on longer.

He'd manage to go back.

He'd manage, if it was the last thing he'd do.

He moved his arm, elbowing Kevin in the face, then he pushed him off. The walking dead. That was what he must have resembled. He started chuckling. Then he started laughing. Really loud. He couldn't hear it, but his throat was raw. He could only guess it was loud.

His ears were still bleeding, but his wounds were not.

Kevin looked about ready to piss himself and then beg for mercy. Oh, Percy wouldn't give it. Probably because he wouldn't hear the pleads, and then also because he wasn't feeling like it. No, he was feeling like tearing this guy apart.

He stood on his feet, and Kevin now really looked terrified.

He stumbled to where the boy from one was, laying on the blood-covered snow. He kneed him in the face with energy he wasn't sure he still had left in himself. Must be the snow. "You think, you could kill _me_?"

He kicked him in the face. Then with his robotic arm grabbed him by the throat and raised him up, off his feet. Kevin's sword slid out of his hands and they started clawing at Percy's metallic one. The demigod slammed him into a tree. "You can't kill me. You stupid fool. You are nothing compared to what I am. Nothing. Now," he said as he let him go, letting him fall to his knees, holding his throat, coughing and surely making gagging sounds which Percy could not hear.

Percy grabbed his sword and leveled it at Kevin's throat. Holding his hair with his broken hand, so that he could then hold his head steady as the blade would pierce his neck.

"You don't deserve this," he said, not entirely sure the young man could hear him. "But I'll make it quick, like I made it quick for all of the others. Although perhaps it'd only be fair if I beat you like you did me. But then that'd take too long and I fear I might actually die in the process, you see—" He pointedly glanced down at himself. "—I'm not exactly stable right now. So I don't know. Say your last words or something."

The young man wasn't yielding, he didn't say anything. Percy swayed slightly on his feet. He started dwindling why the guy wasn't simply fighting back. Oh, maybe because he probably looked completely and utterly insane. He surely felt like it so he wouldn't be surprised if he did look it.

"Well," Percy said, trying for a bored sound but unsure of where he achieved it. His sword moving and nicking his Kevin's head, drawing blood. "To whoever this guy's family is, I tried to get him to tell you how much he's _always loved you_. Then it's his own fault he didn't open his mouth."

Had one blinked they'd have missed it. The moment where he pushed the blade through Kevin's neck. Mercilessly. Without hesitation. Then he yanked his sword out.

His vision cleared. His mind cleared. The realization of everything that had happened in the past who-knows-how-long hitting him hard. He deserved that pain. He fell down, stabbing his sword to the ground. He was on his knees as he saw the jet come over. He saw it clearly, yet he didn't hear anything. Then there were people around him. Grabbing him by the arms, hurriedly dragging him towards the jet. He let them.

Slowly, his vision tunneled and turned into black.

~.~.~.~

Her heart broke into a million pieces. All in the span of two hours. All because she'd been awake and watching that gods-damned screen. Because she'd been watching the games. Been watching _him_. She'd heard it, the plan the careers had devised to round him up and then take him out all together. Had she been there, she would have come up with a much better plan, one which would have succeeded. They weren't children of Athena, though, and their plan had sucked. To the very core.

She'd then also seen, how the boy from four, had lured Manila off and away from Percy. Stupid girl, she should have waked him then and there, would have saved herself while he took care of it. She paid for that mistake, dearly. Because then she'd walked into a clearing, and the boy fell on top of her, having climbed into a tree. Something had snapped in the impact, and seeing as though Manila didn't stand up, Annabeth feared it had been her spine. She'd screamed, loudly, and Annabeth could only hope, for both her and him, that Percy had heard it.

The video did change to him, showing as he woke up. As he fell right into the trap. Then his pen was becoming a sword and he was running. Right where the careers had wanted him to run to. Right towards them. Instead of having to chase him, he'd arrive to them. They'd be the ones choosing the fighting grounds, they could prepare it, snare it and put traps wherever they'd like, and he'd walk right into it.

He left everything behind, she knew immediately it would be a big mistake, something he'd regret later. For now, she watched, her heart beating loudly, as he made his way to the girl he'd grown attached to. To Manila, who had kept screaming, the sound a background noise as he moved through the trees. Zipped through them as if they moved away for him, as if he could do so without looking.

His face broke her just as much as seeing what the boy had done to Manila. It was so, broken. He looked dead again. Hollow and lifeless like when she'd seen him curled in that cell, afraid of her touch. For a moment there, his expression had morphed into the same one he'd worn then. Broken. Utterly broken. Someone who was ready to give up. Someone who had already given up. Then it was gone, and replaced in it was only rage.

The boy from four ran. Smart choice. She knew though, that he wasn't running just to flee, but also to lead him to the careers, who were ready to take him on as a pack.

Her last minutes she had to take her eyes off the screen. That was private. It shouldn't be displayed on a screen for thousands and thousands to see. It shouldn't be shown as an entertainment show. How could the people of the Capitol _enjoy_ this. How could they clap at it, laugh at it. Why didn't _they_ go in an arena and fight to the death. Why did they do this?

He'd cried, and Annabeth really, _really_ wished he hadn't. It broke her heart, to see him like that. To see him as he'd been only two months ago. She cried herself. For both the girl —she had started to feel for her— and for him. His flaw was loyalty, personal loyalty, and if the time she'd seen them on this screen told her anything, that she had his loyalty to the very heart. He had been ready to freeze to death so she'd be warm. Ready to give her more provisions to make sure that even if they got separated she'd have a better shot at survival.

Now that person was dying.

She'd been hurt while he'd been sleeping.

That, Annabeth was sure got to him. Too deeply.

In those minutes there, she saw him break. Saw him get shattered. Let himself be shattered.

He didn't stop it.

"Oh my God," Mrs. Lewis whispered from beside her on the couch.

Annabeth didn't respond to that. She couldn't respond to that.

Then she died. Manila died and he lay still. Five minutes. Where she thought he might die. Where she had thought he'd been frozen up like a statue. Then the tears stopped flowing. His features relaxed and locked into place. He looked dead. His skin was pale. His eyes were hollow. His lips blue.

He stood, not a heartbeat later he was running, sprinting, towards the District Four boy. It didn't take him more than a minute for him to catch up. She saw the fear on the boy's face as he heard himself being chased. Chased by what looked to be a demon.

Then Percy was on top of him, pinning him to the ground. Grabbing the dagger from his hands. Threatening him. He seemed ready to torture the poor kid. Do to him what he'd done to Manila. She was ready to look away, unable to look at him as he'd do that. She didn't want to see that part of him. She wasn't sure anyone would want to see it. In fact, she was pretty sure that if anyone did see it, they'd be scarred for life.

Yet, Percy didn't do that. He didn't hurt the boy. He went on a rant, on how much he was ready and longing to do it. Though he didn't. He explained why and Annabeth choked back a sob. Even then. Even after the guy had just killed his friend, tapped into his fatal flaw. He was ready to forgive for the sake of others. For the sake of the family of the boy who was no doubt watching, and praying. Like she was.

The boy didn't manage to say much before Percy then drove the dagger in his heart, cutting him off, killing him immediately. He didn't seem to regret. Not yet. He would though, when he'd acknowledge it. When the realization would hit him that he'd killed a seventeen year old. Had him pinned and mercilessly killed him.

At least he hadn't suffered.

Percy had then continued to walk, not run, towards where the careers were camped. Towards their trap. He started hugging himself, the cold hitting him. Then the jet came. His expression didn't change as it picked up his friend. As it picked up the teen he'd just killed. He kept it in an emotionless state. A mask to cover up everything he was no doubt feeling.

She bit her her lips, and she swallowed. Hard.

The shot changed, and it showed the boy from eight, slowly, silently, creeping his way towards the careers. His axe held tightly in his hand as his eyes looked as alert as ever. He was on the same course as Percy had been, only, much ahead.

Then the careers had spotted him, heard him when he stepped on a twigs and made that cliche noise that averted the bad guys of your whereabouts. He stopped dead. Then an arrow pierced the trunk next to where his head was.

The careers ran to him, and too late for him to back out now. He was scared, they were careers. Probably both fed better than he'd been, less injured and in much better conditions. He was just himself. And he was outnumbered. Perhaps he could still take them.

Before he could even raise his axe, an arrow pierced his shin, and then Kevin's sword was stabbing towards him. He pushed it to the side with his axe. Stepping back as he did so.

Their fight confined for a good five minutes until Kevin had the guy disarmed. Yet, he didn't look scared. He was ready for it. He had been before he had decided to walk to them. To challenged them. He knew he would have most likely lost. Annabeth respected him and when she heard the cannon, she closed her Rey's for a moment, praying to Hades —or whoever controlled the underworld now, Alcyneous most likely— to let him reach Elysium.

Then when she looked back at the screen, Percy was visible, spying on the careers, hiding behind a tree. His face as impassive as it had been then. If he was scared, he didn't show it. He didn't show anything. Annabeth knew, though, that he wasn't scared. He was calm. As calm as one could be when facing what he was facing.

She watched, as he continued on spying on them, hearing them debate on whether they should hunt him down or not since they were the only ones left and he was good at what he did. That perhaps they'd need to plan before jumping into it, not simply _jump into it_. She agreed with the guy, although if they went with the girl's idea then it'd be over quickly.

Although, it wouldn't be either of their choices, because he was already there, and he was ready to kill. It could be seen in his eyes. The killing calm.

He stepped away from his hiding spot, making himself visible and Annabeth had to hold back a giggle.

Dramatic much?

"I'm afraid I won't be going anywhere," he said calmly as he looked down at the dead body of the sixteen year old from District Eight. He looked back at the careers, at Kevin and Annabeth could swear she saw an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Would have never thought to hear you're afraid of me."

"This is about to get ugly," Jake voiced out. "Isn't it?"

Annabeth nodded absently. "Not ugly, _really_ ugly."

"Not afraid," Kevin said, his voice steady as he twisted the hilt of the blade in his hands. He stopped approaching them, standing little less than five yards away from them. "Just cautious."

"Of what?" Percy asked causally, and Annabeth hated that tone. So dead and void of emotions. "Me?"

 _Of course you, you stupid reckless fool_ , Annabeth wanted to scream at him. They'd be even bigger fools for not fearing you.

He chuckled softly. "So this is the end, three of us left. I can only imagine what must be going through your minds."

"That you're dead," Sasha said, and let loose her arrow. He swiftly sidestepped, then broke into a run at the same time Kevin did.

During that split second they were running at each other, Annabeth noticed Percy's eyes running over Kevin, no doubt to pick up everything he could. Annabeth had seen Kevin fight more than once, had seen him take lives like they were nothing but slaughter animals. Had seen him cut through the other tributes like they were butter. So perhaps, this fight would be interesting, perhaps it'd require something more than force for Percy to win.

She was ready to got here and take the girl out without a second thought. Because she just kept shooting arrows at him. Some even just narrowly missing him.

Then his sword clashed with Kevin's and the other teen was forced to step back because of the raw force Percy had exhibited in that one single blow. No doubt the factor that his right arm was robotic and he barely felt anything through it, and that he could channel extra force through it helped.

Kevin was quick to recover and try to hit Percy with his own blow. Something Percy parried off and used to attack on his own. Then he seemed to come to a solution in his mind, she could read it in his eyes. Soethgn to end the fight before it could get too bloody and messy. Unnecessarily so. He wiped his legs at Kevin's and kicked his feet from under him. Kevin fell, his knees hitting the ground hardly, making such noise that Annabeth was sure it had hurt the guy.

Percy then leveled his sword at his throat, ready to make the final move, and Annabeth really thought, just a few more minutes and it'd be over for him.

"How did she look like, when she died?"

Percy stilled. Annabeth stilled. How dare he say that. How dare—a second later an arrow pierced Percy's arm, and then Kevin was back on his feet and then he was kicking at Percy's sword making it clatter to the ground at the very same time the demigod had crouched down to get the dagger from his boot. He threw it —at the same time his sword fell out of his grip— at the girl. It hit home.

She fell backwards. Dead before she hit the floor.

A cannon sounded.

Annabeth whimpered as Percy seemed to have lost his sense of sight, like something was obscuring his vision. His left hand blindly searching the snow for his fallen sword. She gasped when the boot connected with his hand, when she heard the bones break underneath the weight. Then as Kevin kicked him in the gut, sending him back. His head hitting on a sharp rock. He didn't stand up.

She started _shaking_ as Kevin grabbed two arrows, from Sasha's quiver, two brand new arrows, shining in the moonlight and approached Percy.

"No," Annabeth muttered. "Please no." She knew he couldn't hear her, but it was all she could do as she watched Percy open his eyes, blink the blood out of them and stare at Kevin.

He didn't move.

Then Kevin stabbed both arrows in his ears and Annabeth cried out and jumped to her feet. The same moment that Percy yelled. His yell rang through her ears. It rang and it didn't end, even when he closed his mouth and his head fell back. When Kevin yanked the arrows out, showing bleeding ears.

"Ooh," Cesear said. "That does not look good. Could it be, that the one everyone is betting on, will actually be beaten? That Kevin from District One, will actually make his way home?"

She fell to her knees, her hand covering her mouth as she stared at the dagger Kevin held above Percy's stomach. She sagged on her heels, a sob shook her as it was stabbed in his gut and her lover gasped. Gasped in pain. His eyes unfocused and Annabeth feared he didn't see clearly anymore.

Then he muttered the word that was her undoing. "Annabeth."

A sob shook her violently, and the tears came down faster than they did before.

He wasn't going to die.

He would not die because of these Hunger Games.

Not when she still needed him.

Not when there were people that were searching for them.

When the world was going to hell.

He clutched the snow beneath him. His fingers curling in it and Annabeth smiled through her scowl. He was trying to fight back, albeit unknown to everyone else watching. He was calling on his powers, pleading it to help him. To heal him.

There it was, relief on his face. If only for a moment before the sword was yanked out and his body raised with it. Then slumped back on the ground, were relief seemed to flood him again.

Then his lips moved again, though no sound came out. She read them. He was mouthing her name.

Kevin looked angry, enraged. Probably wondering why the bastard was still alive. While he was still breathing. Why the cannon hadn't gone off yet.

He punched Percy, hard, in the face. There was a loud crack-like noise and Annabeth just knew that his nose had been broken. She dug her nails in her palm.

"Come on, Percy," she muttered, she prayed like he was a god, she pleaded. "Get up."

Then Kevin had his dagger out again, and he was stabbing him, again, and again, and again.

He didn't react to them. Merely kept his eyes on Kevin, unfocused. Annabeth just knew he was losing it. Losing. Losing the will to live, to fight back. Losing his life. Losing everything.

Kevin tried killing him, in so many ways, but the cannon never went off.

"What is he, a god?" Mr. Lewis, the mayor of District Six, said incredulously. "Why isn't he dying? He should have been dead with the first one."

The Cesear's face appeared next to the live feed from the arena where he was a prisoner in, where he was being stabbed in. Repeatedly. "Seems as though this one is one heck of a fighter," he said. "He should technically be dead. But, he's still alive. Somehow."

Lies.

Annabeth could _see_ it, that Cesear Flickerman was lying. She knew he knew exactly why Percy was still alive. Why he was still breathing when those wounds would have killed any other. He knew. He was lying. She wondered how wonderful it'd be, if he was ratted out. If a rumor that the presenter of the Hunger Games and most popular entertainment on the screen in Panem, was a liar.

Then the screen went back to the arena.

To Percy and Kevin.

Kevin was about to stab Percy again, the dagger angled over his heart, and Annabeth literally stopped being. She stopped breathing. She stopped moving. She stopped _thinking_.

Then Percy moved.

His right elbow hit Kevin in the face. Then he punched him in the chest. Pushing him off himself. He kicked him away with what strength he seemed to have left.

He chuckled. A sick maniacal sound which frightened her. Because it sounded nothing like him. Nothing like the Percy Jackson she loved. That chuckle turned into a full blown laugh. A horrible sound. Really loud. A really loud horrible sound. It rung in her ears uncomfortably.

His wounds had stopped bleeding. All but his ears. Those were still leaking blood. Annabeth wondered how much his hearing had been damaged. If he realized it.

Kevin looked ready to piss himself. Annabeth would be, too, because Percy looked like The Walking Dead. The teen from District One looked ready to beg for his life, or at least have mercy and end it quickly. Yet, when Annabeth looked at Percy, she saw he had no intention of doing that.

He stood up, on his feet, and the expression on Kevin's face was one of pure terror.

Percy stumbled to where he was, laying on his knees, in a crouch, on the bloodied snow. Annabeth watched with horror, as Percy kneed him in the face, with strength that one in his conditions shouldn't have. Then Annabeth remembered the snow. Water in a colder state. Still water.

"You think, you could kill _me_?" he asked in a tone that chilled her to the very bone. The way he said ' _me_ ', his lip curling deviously, his eyes narrowing.

He kicked Kevin in the face. Blood splattered on the white snow, staining it. Then she watched in silence, having ceased any sound as Percy grabbed him by the neck with his robotic arm, locking it around his throat. Then he raised him off the ground. Kevin seemed to unwillingly drop his sword. Then both his hands started to try to pry the metallic hand of his throat. Percy merely slammed him into a tree.

"You can't kill me. You stupid fool," he said, and Annabeth was surprised that it hadn't been a roar. Only a a mock. His voice steady and calm. "You are nothing compared to what I am. Nothing. Now—" he then said as he let him go. Kevin fell to his knees, his hands holding his quickly darkening throat. Gasping for breath. Gagging as he tried to choke down air.

Percy grabbed his sword, Riptide, which Annabeth now hated seeing, because this was not what it was supposed to do. Heck, Celestial bronze shouldn't even be able to touch these people, much less kill them. But it was able to. Annabeth had the slightest suspicion that Gaea had something to do with this. Something for sure.

She caught her breath as he leveled his sword at Kevin's neck. One quick flick of his wrist and the guy would be dead. His left hand grabbed his hair, and Annabeth knew it wasn't only to keep him from running off. It was for something else too. An executioner's grip. That was what it looked like. Percy looked like an executioner. She wasn't sure she could watch.

"You don't deserve this," he said, not so calmly. It was clear he was fighting an internal battle. The more savage part of him wanting to torture the guy in front him. It must have taken him much restraint not to do so. Especially when he looked so deadly. "But I'll make it quick. Like I made it quick for all the others. Although perhaps, it'd only be fair if I beat you, like you beat me. But then that'd take to long, and I fear I might actually die in the process. You see—" he glanced down at himself, at the wounds on his stomach. "—I'm not exactly stable right now. So I don't know. Say your last words or something."

Kevin said nothing. Annabeth didn't blame him.

"Well," Percy said, sounding _bored_. "To whoever this guy's family is, I tried to get him to tell you how much he's _always loved you_. Then it's his own fault he didn't open his mouth."

She should have blinked, then perhaps she'd have missed it. The moment, where Percy pushed the blade forward and through Kevin's neck. It had been without hesitation and absolutely merciless. Kevin was dead before she could fully comprehend it. Then Percy yanked his sword out.

A I'd followed as Kevin's body hit the ground.

The last cannon sounded.

It didn't take long for her to then watch as he fell to his knees on the snow. As he stabbed his sword through it. As realization hit him of everything he'd done. As his eyes seemed to clear, become more focused. A misty veil she hadn't realized had been on them, vanishing.

Then the screen changed. She knew she wouldn't be seeing him any time soon. Not until the interview for the victor.

.

 **I'm not fully sure about this chapter but...yeah.**

 **Review and follow. Tell me what you thought.**

 **Hunter**


	8. Part 1 - Chapter 7

**Hey...long time no see**

 **This chapter goes darker, sorta, so like, be warned.**

 **Here goes nothing.**

.

 **X-X-Part 1-Chapter 7-X-X**

 **...**

She crept up slowly, the steepness of the mountain not bothering her as she had been used to much worse. Months and months of preparation and planning were in her footsteps. She could not mess up. She had to be subtle and do her part for the plan, otherwise all would fail.

Memories flooded her mind for a moment. Memories of when she had first set foot on this damned mountain. The fight that happened. The friend and lover that she had lost. The friend she'd gotten back. The friend she had made.

Words whispered in her head, the last words he had spoken to her as himself. He'd thought ha had her convinced, he had been sure of it…in return she had kicked him off the cliff. Mercilessly.

A vision that still haunted her to this day.

Luke.

She shook her head to clear her mind. _It was not the time to think about the past_. No, it indeed wasn't. She was here on an important mission, and she would not fail.

The daughter of Zeus continued onwards with her hike. Up towards what had once been the fortress named Othrys, which now was nothing more than rubble around her. Her bow was in her hand, an arrow notched and ready to be fired, her spear strapped to her back. _Aegis,_ was still in her bracelet form, but ready to spring into the scary shield any moment.

She stopped behind a boulder once she knew she was fairly close to her destination, and she listened.

Ragged breathing told her that something or some _one_ was in a very uncomfortable situation. She wasn't surprised seeing as though this was where the sky _tried_ to meet with the earth. Yet she knew that it couldn't, because a poor immortal soul was preventing it from doing just that.

Anyone could hold it, she knew, because two of her own friends had done so. Had held it. One because she'd been tricked and the other…because he put the quest before himself. _And because he's a total moron_ , a part of her mind added. That too…

She strained her ears to hear anything but the ragged breathing of the poor soul holding the weight of the sky on their shoulder, but she found that there was nothing else. So she risked it.

Her head peaked up from the boulder she was hiding behind. The sight wasn't much different from what she had seen before. The mist was so thick she had to squint herself to see properly, but once the effect had faded, she could see it. She could see the being holding the sky and her heart sank.

The sea god had taken a beating, apparently, and then pushed under the wright of the sky, disabling him from using too much of his godly powers and therefore healing himself from the wounds he had suffered.

The battle at Camp Half-Blood had ended in August, as it had started then. It had lasted all but two days. Two days in which everything had gone to hell. Both camps burned to the ground and all but two olympian gods captured and sent who knows where.

Athena and Hermes had been the only two that had managed to get away and with their powers combined had flashed the remaining demigods elsewhere and masked their scents. The stronger demigods such as herself, and the other children of the 'Big Three' had lended their strengths to the two gods so they could hide themselves from the power and influence of the giants and Gaea.

Three camps, none even half as big as Camp Half-Blood had been, had been built in three point on the American country. Camp Alpha, which was the one in the middle of the country. Camp Beta which was lower down the coast than Camp Half-Blood had been and then Camp Charlie, which was parallel to Camp B but on the Western coast.

Three or so months before, Percy and Annabeth had disappeared, Hell knew where, and they'd come up with the theory of where the sea god was being held.

They hadn't been wrong.

Although he looked nothing like the strong and powerful man Thalia was used to seeing, she knew it was him under the weight of the sky. A sick sense of humor. His hair had all gone white, apart from a few streaks which were a darker shade of grey. His attire consisted in a toga, the single sling on his should seeming close to sliding off, the white fabric dirty and bloody. Sweat seemed to be sliding down everywhere from the god, down his arms, his torso and his legs. She noticed he'd been left barefoot, and his feet were red with the pressure on them.

His ankles had been shackled with a length of chain in between them that enabled him to keep his legs apart. His wrists had much the same bonds.

She glanced around to see two dozen, if not more, monsters of any kind, with their back on him, spears in hand and swords sheathed, looking out for whatever demigod would be foolish enough to come and try to rescue the sea god.

That'd be her by the way.

Then the footsteps started…

She moved around the boulder in an anti-clockwise direction and watched. A party of seven was making their way towards the sea god. At the head of the party was a giant she'd already had the displeasure of meeting

She took a deep breath, and then she fired her arrow. In the sky. It soared up high, cutting through the clouds like a knife through butter and then it exploded like a firework. That was the signal, and almost like her death sentence.

Immediately the Giant, Polybotes, turned to her direction. She was standing already, her spear materializing in her hands, tapping her bracelet, Aegis springing out, the monsters backing off. She smirked as she raised her spear up to the sky and thunder rumbled. Polybotes was already making his way to her, savoring the slow chase.

She was the one to smirk when her brother, Jason appeared from behind her, and claimed the energy she was channeling and used it to hit the back of the enemies. Not a very Roman way of fighting, but it didn't bother her, or him. The party of seven, empousa and cyclops, dissolved into dust, which was all good for her. But it did nothing to the big Giant.

That's when Nico made an appearance out of the shadows, Hazel helping him with shadow traveling others in as well. Thalia charged the Giant, Jason close to her flank. They'd take him down together, brother and sister. They'd finally get to work as a pair. It was all going to be good, as long as he was there with her.

Four other demigods, Nico, Hazel, Leo and Frank, would work on the twenty monsters now flanking the sea god, while Piper, she was already making her way towards the sea god, there, to tell him about their plan, and that as soon as he saw the Giant coming towards them, he'd need to get out of the way and let the burden fall on the Giant.

She and Jason fought, hard against the Giant. The very same that had forced Percy and Annabeth to disappear the fates knew where. She put her all into it, as did her brother and together, they managed to defeat him like they had those months ago. They managed to use lightning to send him spiraling back towards under the sky, where Poseidon let go, and then quickly scrambled away, just as it fell on top of Polybotes and the last of the monsters were nothing but powder.

Contentment filled her when she saw the Giant struggling. She turned to her brother and offered a high five. Which he fulfilled, with great strength. "We should do this more often, little bro."

He only laughed as they both made their way up to the others, where the sea god was sitting down, leaning on a boulder. The _sea god, leaning on a boulder_. They had actually managed to free one of the gods. That must count as something.

Perhaps, all hope was not yet lost.

~.~.~.~

When he woke there was the weird sound of a heart monitor next to him, beeping annoyingly. He squeezed his eyes, just trying to block out the noise when he realized. The _noise_. His eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up on the bed he was laying on. Why on earth could he _hear_ , he was very sure that Kevin had stabbed two arrows in his ears, and that he hadn't heard anything after that.

Then it all crashed down on him. Everything that had happened, what that week inside the arena had cost him. Everything. All he'd done. The people he'd killed, the way he'd done it. The people he'd failed to save. The one person he had failed to save. The one person that had kept him sane throughout it all, and then he hadn't been able to do the same for her. And the one girl, that had _always_ been in his mind.

Annabeth.

Abruptly, he threw the covers off his body and was halfway to standing when he heard it. The male voice that he'd been waiting for. "The doctors wouldn't advise that."

Percy whirled around, to find an elderly man, with a long white beard and just as white hair, looking at him. A snake. _The_ snake. President Snow. His hand flew to his hips, feeling for pockets, and found one in the hospital gown he wore. Riptide was a sword before the president could blink. He stood and aimed the sword high. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

Snow grinned, and Percy had a sinking feeling inside of his gut. Like this man knew everything about him, knew his weaknesses and soft spots, and he was about to use them all against him. "Ms. Chase, is in District Six. There are cameras, all over this place. If you so much as threaten me again, Mr. Jackson, one word from me and I will see her brought before you, and tortured, then killed."

His arm shook.

She was here.

She _was here._

 _She was here._

He swallowed and lowered his sword. "How do I know your telling the truth? What if Gaea just told you that name to rouse me? How do I know you're not lying?"

"Put the sword away, Mr. Jackson," Snow said as he waved his hand and a screen appeared in front of them, a camera feed. And there she was. In the streets of an unknown District, making her way in a market, a young man by her side.

 _There she was_.

Those grey eyes, scanning around her.

Those blonde curls, flowing behind her.

All those little things that he had held on for so long. He needed her. More than he could be able to put into words.

"Annabeth," he whispered as he dropped his sword and moved to reach for it. Only for the screen to disappear. "How can I hear?" he asked.

President Snow crossed one leg over the other, and hooked his hands over the knee. "The doctors here are skilled experts. They managed to repair the tissue that Kevin broke when he stabbed those arrows in your ears. Therefore repairing your hearing. Additionally there are hearing aids inside your ears, I'm sure you can feel them."

Percy didn't move his hands to feel it, although he did focus and, the weight was there. He moved to sit back down on the bed. "It comes with a price, doesn't it?"

"Why would you think so?" Snow questioned.

"Everything," he said harshly before he reminded himself that he could hurt Annabeth if he only gave the word. So he continued less so. " _Everything_ has always come with a price."

Snow sighed, a content smile on his face. "Of course. But accept this as a gift from me. Although, I do have a request." Percy had the feeling it wasn't going to be negotiable. Not ever. Whatever he was going to ask, it'd be either that, or Annabeth would get caught in between. "During the games, I got the impression that there were a _lot_ of ladies, and I mean a lot, who you caught the eye of. Ladies that would be willing to pay you of course. As you are here by will of the Primordial of the Earth, as a prisoner, nothing less…it would only be right, that you satisfy the needs of your hosts."

"To be a whore?" he asked, without even trying to mask the disgust in his words. He didn't care, if he found himself offended by the tone. Percy was disgusted and _terrified_ of the prospect of being such a person. To find himself in a different bed every week for money. To do it to survive.

"You wouldn't be the only one," President Snow continued. "Finnick Odair, a Victor of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games, or Gloss, District One."

"I played your Hunger Games," Percy ground. "I will not play _that_ game."

Snow chuckled and Percy knew what he was going to say before he said it. "Oh, I am sure you will. Since Ms. Chase's life depends on it."

He didn't say anything. He didn't have anything to say for it. Gods, why was it happening to him.

Why?

Why?

 _Why_?

"If it is of any comfort," Snow said. "Do know, that when Ms. Chase awoke in District Six, her first act was to try to escape, to reach District Five, where you were. Same sorts of threats were exhibited with her."

"She tried to come to me?" Percy asked in a whisper.

"Of course she did," he replied. "And had the Earth Mother not warned me of…your strong wills, I would have never known. But I put a tracker in her, like I put one in you. It was easy to know she'd gone beyond the walls of District Six when she did."

Percy kept his chin high. He might have been nothing more of a cripple, a broken demigod who'd gone insane after months in a dungeon, but he still had the will to fight, he still knew what was right and what was wrong. He still cared about his father, and the rest of the world, and he would not break any further for this man.

"What do I need to do?" he forced the words out, knowing that if he hesitated he might never end up saying them. Never end up helping the girl he loved so much it had been the only thing keeping him sane throughout those months. So he said them, and he listened. Hours passed, where Snow told him exactly what he'd need to say during the interview for the Victor. And the story he'd then carry on for the rest of time around the people in District Five. The lie, about how he had survived. Everything.

~.~.~.~

Six days after the last on screen scene of the Hunger Games, she and the Lewis family were again in front of the screen, watching as Cesear Flickerman went over the highlights of the seventy-second Hunger Games, summarizing the bloodshed, the allies, everything. Also, how —thank the fates— the doctors of the Capitol had partly managed to heal Percy's hearing problems.

And then Percy reappeared.

Her breath caught in her throat, and the tears that had formed in her eyed during the whole highlights show, finally fell from because he was so beautiful. He was so handsome and she couldn't believe, to nothing, that the same man walking down that aisle was the same man who had gone _insane_ when killing those tributes.

The fancy clothing was just a mask for what lay beneath his skin. A mask to cover the monster that prowled in his blood. The power that pumped through his veins. The murderer and cold-hearted killer that lay beneath. If she didn't hate the Capitol enough, she did even more, because they were hiding what he truly was. Hiding it behind that luxurious blue suit he was wearing, or the just as luxurious blue pants he was sporting. His hair, had again been combed and adjusted so they were all set down.

When he appeared on the stage, the crowd erupted in cheers. The women, were swooning, a shot even caught a girl fainting, a girl Annabeth would slap upside the head if she saw her. Percy surprised her again, when he didn't balk, and at first glance, he appeared to be enjoying it. But she knew how to look, and she could see it, in those deep green eyes, that his heart was racing underneath, his blood pumping faster. She knew that underneath the make up on his face, black bags would be evident on his handsome features, that he would look as exhausted and haunted and shaken as it gets. They didn't let that show. They hid him.

He did not feel _good_ to be there, but the charming award winning smile he had on his face told another story. The way he confidently walked onto the stage and shook Cesear's hand, told a different story. The way he sat, opening his suit's buttons, and lifted up his pants as he put one leg over the other. It was stiffer than his usual movements, and it wasn't _him_.

"Do tell me the truth, Annabeth," Mrs. Lewis said. "Is the guy a god?"

Annabeth managed to chuckle. "He's as good as."

" _Perseus, Percy, Percy,_ " Cesear said with that wide smile Annabeth had come to detest. " _What a win_."

Percy was smiling, and Annabeth hated him for it. " _I_ did _tell you I would win_."

Cesear was shaking his head, that grin _still_ there. Annabeth wanted to throttle him. " _Please, enlighten us. How, did you not die? When Kevin had you there at the end, I really thought you were done for. He was beating you up. Stabbing you everywhere. Yet you survived that. He must have stabbed you, fifteen times. Then you stood. How?_ " The incredulousness in his voice wasn't half fake. Perhaps he wasn't as informed as Annabeth had thought his to be. Perhaps he didn't know the full extent of those powers.

Percy rubbed his stomach, eliciting chuckles and laughter from the audience, as he himself offered one. " _Well, Cesear, I must admit, I'm not fully sure I know_ ," he said. Liar. Annabeth smiled. " _One moment I felt like I was dead. The next…I had this strength boosting me up. My wounds didn't feel so painful anymore, and I knew I could do it. I knew I could stand back up and end it, for the both of us. Then well, I guess I have really strong tissues._ "

Annabeth had seen it, Jake had seen it. The blood on the back of him when he had stood. The stab wounds had gone all the way through, heck the sword had gone all the way through. He wasn't fooling anyone. But, Cesear didn't push it. He carried on, going towards something she had hoped he wouldn't.

" _I think,_ " he said. " _I think there was this moment. Where Kevin first stabbed you. You said a name._ " Percy narrowed his eyes and Annabeth growled at the screen. How dare he put _that_ sort of thing in front of everyone. To lay him out and cut him open in front of thousands. " _Annabeth. Could she be the very same one you passed of as, Anna, before the games?_ "

Percy laughed. The fact alone that he managed to laugh at such things…it broke something in her. " _Oh, you caught me,_ " he said amusedly. " _But yes, Anna is just a shorter version of Annabeth. Although she hates it when I call her that. So, let's just hope I didn't survive the week in there just for to the kill me once we see each other again._ "

The audience howled in laughter. They loved him. And in that moment that the cameras were focused on the audience, that only one or two were on him, he seemed to regret saying that. He looked forced. Like he had been forced to say it. Because everyone loved him. And everyone wanted to know.

" _And, I'm sure I wasn't the only one, to…fear you, when you stood back up,_ " Cesear said, turning on a more serious note. " _How did you feel?_ "

He looked on the brink, and Annabeth had the urge to yell at them to stop. Yet, he still answered. " _I— I felt like something within me had snapped. I wasn't sure what I was doing, really, and, I just saw the footage. I looked insane, and I felt insane, too. Like, this dark twisted version of me had been let out to play, and I couldn't gain back control over it. Until…until Kevin was dead, and everything sort of crashed down on me. The ache in my stomach made an appearance. The loss of my hearing settled in. The deaths. Everything. In fact I blacked soon after those arms grabbed me._ "

Cesear looked moved, then he said, " _This next thing, I am absolutely one hundred percent sure, everyone here and at home is wondering about._ "

" _Really? Which is?_ "

Cesear's eyes widened, as if thinking, ' _no way you don't know what I'm talking about_ '. He said, " _That pen! It turned into a sword? That's crazy. Where did you get it? And how does it work?_ "

Shit. How, just how, was he going to explain that. Again, he surprised Annabeth when he had an answer. A stupid and unbelievable one, but one nonetheless.

" _Well, it's something my father made,_ " he said. " _Ages ago. I'm not sure how it works, only that it's very sweet. He had permission from the Capitol to forge it, and well, when I was younger, and he was still alive, he taught me how to use it. Then I asked around wether I could have it be sent to me during the Games, and when I was told I could…I gave it to a friend who made sure I got it when I needed it the most._ "

" _Mmh, by the way, you have mad skills. Are you sure your father was the only one to teach you. Are you sure it wasn't some supreme lord of swordplay?_ "

Percy laughed. " _No, I'm pretty sure it was only my father._ "

Annabeth didn't want to listen to it anymore. She didn't care. No she didn't. Percy was safe, and forever free of the Hunger Games from now on. She…she knew exactly what she'd need to do to see him again, and nothing, _nothing_ , would stop her once she did. Nothing would stop _them_. Together they were going to get out of here, and return to their own country. Return there, and aid _their own_ war.

After they helped with this one.

After she saw him again.

After she'd volunteer as tribute in the seventy third Hunger Games.

She left the living room, walking up to her room and taking out a pen and paper, and she started writing. Formulating and planning. She started strategizing, because next year, she didn't give a damn about it, next year, she would volunteer as tribute for the Hunger Games, and she would win them. But that wasn't it.

She was going to see him again. She just knew she was. She also knew, that he knew about her. It was clear. She knew he knew. So now, all she had to do was go to him. Because she knew he was waiting, waiting for her to go to him so that together they would take back what was theirs.

Their freedom.

Not from just Snow, or the Capitol, but from the world. From Gaea. They were going to earn back their freedom, or die trying. She certainly was not going to wait out the remainder of her life in District Six.

 **END OF PART 1**

 **.**

 **So that's the end of part one. It gets darker from here on out.**

 **Thanks for reviewing and following for those who did.**

 **Hunter**


	9. Part 2 - Chapter 8

**So, I know, it's been like, a very long time, but I do still hope there are still some people reading eheh. Thing is that when school started I had to get my s*** together, and that meant that I only really focused on one of my fics, and this one...well this one I kept on looking at it but it's like...I'm not in the mood, and then a couple of days ago I got in the mood again, and here I am. OR well, here it is:**

 **.**

 **X-X-Part 2-Chapter 8-X-X**

 **...**

Upon arriving home, or that's what everyone else thought… Upon arriving back in District Five, cheers had erupted the moment he had stepped out of the train. _Cheers_ because he had killed other teenagers and they had not. _Cheers_ because he was still alive when twenty-three other _kids_ were not. When twenty-three families were no doubt devastated by the loss of their child. Their _child_.

He wanted to yell at them, to stay quiet and not to cheer for him. He didn't want it, any of it. Yet, he didn't say anything, he only smiled. Knowing full well that there were cameras watching his every move, and would he not smile, Annabeth would pay for it. She'd pay for his misbehaving.

So he smiled, at them all, and he shook their hands, and hugged some, and even found himself being kissed by teenage girls that thought a little too highly of themselves. Googly eyes were sent his way, and flirtatious looks. He sent them back. Disgust inside of him welled up, but he only kept up a cheesy and handsome front on the outside.

He could do this. He thought. He could do it. If not for himself then for Annabeth. For Nico and Thalia. Hazel and Frank. _Grover and Rachel_. His mother and his infant sister that must have been born by now. _Estelle_ , that's what his mother had told him she'd call her. _Estelle Jackson Blofis_. Then there was Jason and Piper, and Leo. Clarisse and Chiron. Hedge and the twins. Will and Miranda. His fathers, Poseidon and Paul, both equally important to him. He could do it for them. For his family.

He repeated their names. Throughout it all. He repeated their names until he claimed one of the houses in the Victor's village, the one on the male side, next to Darren's and closed the door behind him, hoping that at least here, there weren't cameras that would display his every feeling in front of everyone in Panem.

He closed his eyes, leaned against the door, and slid to the ground. He was alone. He was utterly and plainly alone. He was alone again, in a sea of strangers. Strangers who thought they had known him before, thanks to the mist, strangers _he_ didn't know. He swallowed hard, and for the first time in _weeks_ , heck the first time in a whole _year_ , he allowed himself to be weak.

He allowed the tears to come, and to wash his soul. To cleanse it and then drain it. Because he missed everything. He missed everyone. All those people he had always taken for granted, the jokes and the pranks he had never thought twice about. The family that was constantly fighting and forcing him to risk his life… He missed them all. He would have never thought that their missing presence would hurt so much. Never.

Even when he had been a prisoner of Gaea, tortured by her son Polybotes, he hadn't missed them as much as he missed them then, because then, it had always been a given, that they were _there_. That they knew where each other was and that they were with him. Here…It was another prison, but much worse. He was allowed to roam free, and yet, his _family wasn't there_ to put meaning into his days. It was only _him_. And their memory. Nothing more than _their memory_.

He didn't know if it was hours, or days that passed, but he didn't move. He didn't stand up. He just sat there, leaning against the front door, and wept. No one came for him, and he was glad they understood to give him time. It gave him hope, that humanity was not lost in Panem. No. Not in the Districts.

When at last he decided to end his pity party, his legs were stiff, and his whole body ached from disuse, and it felt as though there was a hole in his stomach. He was hungry and he hadn't realized, that's when he deduced that things had indeed gone to hell. His whole life had gone to hell the moment he had woken up in District Five and found the note with Gaea's symbol. When he'd been told he was here to stay.

He made his way to one of the bedrooms, glad that there were clothes in the wardrobe, and his bed was made. Although he wouldn't sleep yet. No, there was something he'd need to do before he could lose himself to nightmares to come. So instead he took a shower and changed to clean clothes. Luxurious clothes that were worth more than everything he had ever worn in the whole entirety of the time he had spent in District Five. He would bother to care about that when he was more lucid.

Then he made his way down to the kitchen, not surprised that it was well furnished with food and ingredients. So when he set all the ingredients he'd need on the table, and saw that nothing was missing, he didn't waste his time as he started making the cookies. Perhaps to remind himself of what life used to be like when his hands had been guided by his mother's or perhaps simply because he needed _to do something_ before he took that walk outside to meet a grieving family.

It took him longer than it had ever, but by the end, he had cooked enough batches for it to last a couple of days. Then he set a good portion of it in a container and made his way out. And as he stepped over that threshold he made a promise to himself. No more tears until he saw her again. No more tears until he knew she was safe. He swore it. He swore that he'd do anything, not caring that he'd hurt anyone, and he wouldn't be weak. Not until his eyes met hers and her smile graced her lips.

Until then, he'd just have to fight.

He navigated his way through District Five, the smile of triumph he had worn upon his arrival replaced by a grimace. The people offered sad smiles to him as well, especially as they noted the direction he was going, as they remembered that he hadn't only fought for himself, but that he had fought for the both of them. They didn't show their fear of him of what he had become after her death or disgust, and he silently thanked them for it. They showed understanding but not pity.

He hadn't know where she had lived, instead, he had let the atmosphere and his instincts guide him. Guide him to the quietest part of the District. Where a family and neighbors were no doubt still grieving for beautiful light to never light their darkness again. A wonderful and lively girl to never come back home.

He hesitated but managed to knock on the door. His hands steadier than it had been in a long time, even though it was a prosthetic metallic one. He looked down at the batch of cookies he held in the bowl and suddenly felt really foolish. It was basically coming here and saying, ' _I'm sorry I couldn't save your daughter. Here are some cookies._ ' He only hoped they wouldn't get offended.

Then the door opened and he stared up at the woman that had opened the door. Dressed in black. Her eyes red. Her whole being screaming that she didn't want to be disturbed. Her eyes changed though when she acknowledged who was standing there. They narrowed to slits and then softened. He took his chance to speak before she would yell at him to go away.

"My mother taught me how to—" he said quickly before he lost himself. "She taught me how to bake and… I didn't want to come here, offering my…apologies…empty handed—"

He hadn't expected it. The arms that wrapped around his neck. The soft face that rested in the crook of his neck. The body that pressed against his. He had thought the opposite would have. Then he felt his shirt be wet, underneath her face. Her shaking as she held him became apparent and he put a comforting hand around her, his robotic one holding on to the cookies.

"Come inside," she pleaded as she took his rough calloused hand and pulled him into the house. Closing the door behind them.

Little did he know then, that he had just made a friend of Mrs. Evermore. And Mr. Evermore, and their son Gilbert. Manila's brother, who was but a child, five, maybe six. A child who would never see his sister again. Perhaps he still didn't know. Perhaps he did. All Percy thought as he looked at him was that the world was a cruel, cruel place to be in. And living like this wasn't really living…

~.~.~.~

He willed the months to pass. One by one. The hours, the days, the weeks. All of it. He willed it all to go on because even though he could only wait for him to go on the Victor's tour, and go to District Six, he couldn't do so before winter. Before half a year had passed after the Games. Seemed fitting, he knew, because by reminding the people of what had happened six months prior, the Capitol was leaving their imprint year round, forcing them to _celebrate_ in the death of their own tributes. In the Hunger Games.

He didn't care by the point. All he knew is that it was the first time he'd get to see Annabeth. The first time in almost a year and he couldn't wait. Although he was afraid of that encounter, too. He didn't know what he'd do if he saw her. If he'd keep his composure, or run to her, and seal both their deaths in doing so. He wasn't so sure there wouldn't be bloodshed, but perhaps, it would be worth it if he got to feel her again, her skin on his, her breath on him, her eyes in front of his.

He longed for that.

He longed for it so much it hurt.

Even though he knew, that once he'd reach the Capitol after that tour, his deal with Snow would begin. His part of the deal where he made sure Annabeth wasn't killed or hurt, would begin. Where he'd remain in the Capitol, for a whole month, going from costumer to costumer, every four nights. Getting acquainted, getting to know each other. Sharing each other. But he'd do it, for her and everybody else.

So he willed the months to go by. One by one. He reestablished friendships with the Peterson's and continuing with life as he had before the Games, although he knew it wasn't the same. He would be lying to himself if he believed it was the same. Nothing was the same. Being forced, to kill twenty-three teenagers like that, it had harbored deep hate for the Capitol.

A deep hate for this place.

He couldn't show that, though, could he?

So when his makeup team arrived, with Dorian and everyone else, he put on that smile again and didn't let it waver. He kept it to himself when the cameras appeared and he was escorted outside and onto the blasted train. The train he had first taken with Manila and headed towards District Twelve. There he gave a speech. A speech where the words were his own, and he expressed his deepest condolences, for their loss. Where he then also went on to mention to _thank the Capitol_ that they weren't all dead and that they gave the kind of opportunities to teens so that they could get out of living in poverty.

 _Those_ were not his words.

And they tasted bitter on his tongue when he said them.

More bitter than the water had tasted after his talk with Snow.

Their families put onto pedestals like reminders how the people he hadn't killed but was technically the fault for their deaths, reminded him of many families he had gone to, after the Titan War. Families who had also lost their children. They were the same in Percy's eyes, and although they begged to shed tears, he didn't allow them. He wouldn't cry, he reminded himself. Not until Annabeth.

With District Eleven it was the same speech except he mentioned that their male was really strong, and truth be told, he _had_ expected nothing less. As for District Ten he gave the same speech as he did to Twelve, and then to Nine. Then to Eight, he apologized to the family of the boy, because he had been there when it had happened and hadn't done anything. To Seven there were no cheesy apologies, only the speech.

Then the day for Six came, and he had never been more anticipating. Because Annabeth. Annabeth was going to be here, and knowing her, she would be in the front rows, ready for him, like he was ready for her. He needed her. That's it. All he needed was her. Just a glimpse would do. But he _needed_ her. He was so close.

So when he stood before the soon to be opened doors of the podium he'd stand on, his heart raced, more than it had in many months. His heart _ached_. It ached for a love he hadn't forgotten and hoped beyond measure she hadn't forgotten either. Love. His love. It ached _for her_. He needed her. He needed her. _He needed her._

The doors opened, and it took every ounce of his strength not to _run_ out the doors and onto the podium, but instead walk, controllably to the edge of it, where he could see them all. He searched for her face. He couldn't find her. He searched for blonde hair, he couldn't find her. He searched and he searched until someone awkwardly coughed and he looked up, to the two families, the faces of the two tributes from Six big behind them.

His eyes were staring, yet he couldn't see them.

He couldn't see _her._

Where was she?

Why wasn't she here?

That's when a voice made him realize, Snow wouldn't allow it. For him to see her. He wouldn't allow it. Not today. Not when this was punishment for the both of them for fighting Gaea. This separation was a _punishment_ and not the Victor's tour would end it. Perhaps only the Hunger Games would. Perhaps she was thinking the same way and she would…no.

Another awkward cough and he looked sidelong, to one of the Peacekeepers. He snarled at him before he could think about the consequences. Then he looked down at them all again, searching for her again. Failing to find her, again. She wasn't there.

He sighed, deeply and thoroughly, and then he gave his stupid speech. A part of him breaking further in himself.

~.~.~.~

She had wanted to go, gods above she had been ready to go. She had wanted it more than ever, waited for it for six whole months. Yet she had been denied. She had been _denied_. She was going to murder them. The moment she had stepped out of the mansion of the mayor, Peacekeepers had gotten her, bound her, and then brought her back inside and locked her in a room, with two of those white dummies in front of the door, and in front of the window, keeping her from getting out.

She had yelled at them to let her go, had been so close to fighting them and _killing_ them if it mean that she's get to see him, perhaps touch him and kiss him. But then one of those screens that were _everywhere_ popped up on the desk and she was told to sit. And watch.

So, for his sake. She had. And she had laughed, and cried, but gods she had laughed, because the face he made when he didn't see her in the crowd, it was worth a chuckle. The way someone had coughed to have him start and he hadn't, was worth another chuckle. And then that white dummy had coughed again and he had growled…that earned a full laugh.

~.~.~.~

He didn't really go through the other Districts. Sure his physical body was there, but his self had gone deep inside of him, hiding, because she hadn't been there. He had waited and waited and waited in anticipation of the day he'd get to District Six, and she hadn't been there. He wanted to murder someone. Scratch that, he wanted to murder _everyone_ in the Capitol. _Everyone_. And then find Gaea, and torture her, for everything she had put him through, and then strip of her of everything, like she had stripped him, and then let her live the remainder of her immortal life as a shell.

Dark thoughts reigned over him. Dark thoughts indeed.

He didn't hear Genevieve, or Darren, or the freaking Capitol chick, Eliza. Heck he tuned them all out. From Genevieve and Darren's support, to Eliza pestering about the ' _Awful performance at Six_ ' and how he needed to make the _Capitol_ love him. The Capitol, not the districts. So many nights he got so close to telling her to shut up and leave him alone, yet so many times he didn't let it get to his head.

First Annabeth, he reminded himself, then they could reign hell amongst them all together.

The burning thought of Gaea, of the Giants, of everyone back at home, it was enough for him to keep his mouth shut and smile, and nod in agreement.

When it came to the final stop, the Capitol, all his shields went up. Both outside and inside. He knew the bargain with Snow was going to start, perhaps even tonight, and he needed to be mentally ready for it. If he was not…then he'd pay the consequences with half his sanity. He'd pay them by becoming someone he was clearly not. So he raised them, and let everyone see the savage boy who had them enjoying themselves for a week as he killed other teenagers.

When the time of the party came, and he was dressed and outfitted by _Dorian_ , he was glad to see that it was nothing too extravagant. A simply blue suit with matching smart pants, it seemed all he was to wear in front of these people. Suits and suits and suits. Then came the make up, his face was made flawless, the angry bags under his eyes were made to disappear, and then blue eyeliner was added to the top of his eye. He almost throttled Dorian as he was applying it. Although, he was surprised again, to find that they didn't bother with covering the scar that ran down across his face. There was also the way his hair was pushed back and made to stay back, and he'd forever wonder how they did that, when no amount of jell back at home had managed such a task.

He endured it, though. All of it, and when he finally stepped out of the luxurious car, Eliza in front of him leading the way, he smiled at the hosts, at the Capitol citizens. He let them squeeze his arms, even offered grins at those who did. Let them touch him around, wherever their hands trailed, and kept on smiling, putting on a show of pleasure to being loved this much. Inside, behind those shields he had conjured, he was as good as throwing up.

Then he arrived in the thickness of the party, and…he drank some wine, then some more, and when he felt himself slipping, he stopped, knowing his shields would crumble if he got drunk. Knowing and therefore preventing. He remained in that state of limbo between being drunk and sober and carried on into the night. Meeting the Capitol citizens, talking to them, conversing with them.

When the women started to get on him, drunk they were, his first thought had been of Annabeth, gods he wasn't going to cheat on her. Then his traitorous eyes would trail up, to where President Snow was standing on his balcony, his eyes fixed on him, and so Percy would remember the threats. He would remember them, and he'd stop fighting the women, and they usually didn't make him regret it as much as he wished.

By the time Snow called for a toast, his neck held red splotches where more than one lady had given him a lasting hickey, while he returned them. His arm, it was around a woman, slightly older than he was, but already corrupted so deeply in the ways of the Capitol. It hung tight around her waist. In his other hand, a glass of champagne.

The fireworks started, and when Percy's gaze lingered on Snow, and the President noticed them, he nodded, and the demigod felt a wave of relief flood through him. Gods above, perhaps he could manage through this. He hoped he could and he prayed to the heavens, even though no one was listening, to help him through it. To give him strength to do it.

Somehow, he managed through the night without throwing his guts up, or pushing them away, or yelling at someone, or killing President Snow where he sat. He let himself loose, and he tried to enjoy himself, although it seemed like an impossible task. A very hard and impossible task.

He managed though, and when Snow came down from his balcony and congratulated him, again, and then mentioned that the lady on the far off table had a very nice home, Percy understood the underlying meaning. So he trudged off to her, and played the hot arrogant boy version of himself, and let her take him. He didn't enjoy it, but, it was releasing.

It went on, the descent of his being, of his will. It went lower and lower and he didn't try to stop it. Week after week he'd make his way to the Capitol, and the Capitol loved him for it. He was loved by every single one of them. Every time he stepped out of a car, or the train, they cheered. Every time he smiled and grinned they roared at him. It was like living like a superstar. A superstar loved for being a killer. How messed up these people were.

Though he smiled back at them, and slowly, he lost himself in it.

.

 **This chapter is short, sorry, like less than the 4,000± I usually do, so perhaps a next one is coming soon, who knows. Maybe the next one comes in another six months.**

 **I just really hope uou enjoyed, every time I watch the Hunger Games movies, I end up crying at the last one, call me emotional. The story is great and the love story...uhhhhh...this story is gonna get into that, btw, with like, Katniss and Peet, and the 74th and 75th Hunger Games...Like this story is gonna get there.**

 **Review and follow and favorite to boost me writing.**

 **Have a nice day.**

 **Hunter**


	10. Part 2 - Chapter 9

**Hello, yes, I am back already like two weeks after I just updated, but...I've gone far with this and I want it out there for all of y'all to see. So please, enjoy this chapter is fluffy.**

 **.**

 **X-X-Part2 2-Chapter 9-X-X**

Annabeth was ready, readier than she had ever been for such things. She had planned it all out. And, would Snow come to discover her hand in all of it, she was sure he would behead her, and then Percy as well. Or perhaps he wouldn't and let them live because Gaea wanted them alive. Whatever the consequences, she was hoping the latter was real. That by being input prisoner of Gaea's they had a ticket for life when it came to Snow. At least until a certain point.

Her idea had started out simple. Get into the games, show who's boss and win. Slaughter everyone if it meant getting out more quickly. She wasn't Percy, and the blood of those children wouldn't hunt her the way it must have surely hunted him. She wasn't afraid, and she wasn't loyal to a fault like he was.

That simple idea had soon developed, and over the six months she had to plan it all out, she had managed to come up with a stronger plan than what she had started with. A deceit that would entertain the Capitol, and therefore, Snow would think twice about killing her when it was over. Of course, he wasn't going to kill the winner of the Hunger Games was he, especially when she'd give them the show she had in mind.

So her life was safe, but what of Percy's? She sighed through herself. She had to hope that in this case, he'd be able to hold himself through. Once they were together, nothing would stop them. So just a little bit of time and they'd go back home. Just a little bit more time.

Time who was never on their side.

The day of the reaping came all too quickly, but she knew what she had to do and she was confident. Confident for all of it.

So she dressed pretty, in a delicate grey dress that the mayor's wife had passed down to her, and braided her blonde hair sideways down her head. She was going to look as pretty as she could, after all she was going to deceive them all, wasn't she. Every single one of them, and looking pretty was the first of it.

She might have mentioned to Jacob that she was going to volunteer for as tribute, but that was about it. She had told him he was going to see her in the games this year, and that was it. She didn't specify what she was going to do about it. She didn't tell him her delicate plan.

She looped thin and intricate earrings through her earring holes and then clasped them close behind. She added some ornaments to her hair, just to add to it, in a way. Make it look like she cared a lot. Which she really didn't. Days before she had purchased some gold covered bracelets and she put them high on her arm and by the end of it, she could have passed off as a girl cosplaying as a goddess. A Greek goddess.

A calculated move on her part. When Snow would see her he would see and understand. She would not be broken so easily. She hoped the same worked for Percy as well.

When Jake saw her…his jaw dropped. "Are you crazy," he asked, noting the cleavage the low-cut the dress showed. She had done her best to have her breasts appear bigger. She had to look the part, however disturbing it was to her own mind. The Capitol will know she would not break for them. Heck, they'd break for her, before this was all over.

"I," she said slowly. "Am perhaps the craziest person you'll ever meet."

He nodded, in agreement. "I won't argue with that, you are."

She grinned at him and then offered her arm, for him to loop his around, which he did. "Shall we go to our doom, then?"

She had told him, clearly, that she would not want him to volunteer, if e wasn't chosen. It would do nothing but serve as a death sentence. She had said with much guilt, but she had meant it. _She_ was the one that was going to come out of that arena alive, and the fates help who tried to stop her.

As they made their way to the square of the reaping, she acted like she had never before, and she enjoyed it. Acting childish and girlish and swinging her hips side to side, flicking her hair behind her, twirling locks of it in her finger, all the while with her arm hooked around Jacob's.

Perfect.

She grinned to herself, and then put on a scared expression as she went into the line, to get her freaking finger pricked for her blood. Her godly blood which was worth more than the peacekeeper taking it and stamping it onto paper. Then she went to her section. Eighteen year olds. If only she had been born a month earlier, she wouldn't need to be there, _and_ wouldn't have the chance to see him again. So she thanked her mother for bearing her a month too late.

She stood there. Silent. Catching Jake's eye, one or twice. Her heart steady as she looked like she was listening to what the mayor was saying, but really was conjuring up ways to kill all the peacekeepers in the square, and that horrid lady from the Capitol, what was her name again, oh yes, Angelica. She thought about smudging all the make up she was wearing and using it to paint her death.

Good thoughts, good thoughts indeed.

She grinned, slyly, when _Angelica_ moved to the edge of the podium.

 _Just one step and you fall,_ Annabeth thought. _Then perhaps you die_.

Truth was, that as much as Annabeth wanted the lady to die horribly, she needed her to go on with the reaping. Her reaping. The Capitol lady said in her shrill voice, "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Ah, jokes on her, the odds where never in her favor.

"Ladies first," Angelica said as she moved to the bowl of the girls and picked a slip. "Katherine Manova!"

Annabeth grinned inwardly. Great. Perfect. She couldn't have asked for better. Katherine Manova had become a good friend of hers. And her, volunteering as tribute…it wouldn't be half as weird as her volunteering as tribute for another girl she didn't know. Of course had she been picked in the first place…

"No!" she wailed, as Katherine started walking, stiffly out of line, from beside her. She held her by the arm. "NO!" she repeated, with more heart break as she moved out of the line. "I volunteer! I volunteer in her place!"

Angelica smiled, sweetly and called her to the podium. Enough time for Annabeth to conjure up fake tears. She wiped at her eyes, and sniffed, adding to the performance. She thought about the worse thing she could think about, the feeling of when Percy had first been taken from her, of when she'd woken up in the District a year before. She let it overwhelm her.

"Oh dear, what's your name?" Angelica said, trotting towards her on those high heels.

"Annabeth Chase," she said, acting like she was scared. Her eyes searched for Jacob, and found him shaking his head, a small smile gracing his lips.

"It is very _honorable_ of you, to volunteer in her place," Angelica said with a huge smile. Then she moved to the centre again, towards the boys's bowl. "Now, for the boys." Her hand dropped in the bowl, shook around until she picked up a piece.

Annabeth felt it in her gut. She just felt something about to go _wrong_. She was so close to yelling at the lady to choose another strip of paper. Every but that. No. No. No.

"Jacob Lewis."

-.-

Darren had quickly told Percy what to do. When he was on that stage, acting as the mentor of this year's tributes. He told him how to act, and how to sit, and how to talk, and how to look. He didn't need to be told of the last one, he always had to look lovable, especially when the feed was going straight back to the Capitol.

So he walked onto stage, following Genevieve, and sat next to her as the mayor talked. He didn't say anything, although his pose alone was enough for his deal with Snow. The expensive jacket he wore, the way he had groomed himself for the occasion. Everything. He did everything. With a smile.

He listened, to the mayor's boring speech, which he realized was the exact same as the previous year. Well, he looked like he was listening, all he could really think about was Annabeth, again. He hoped, selfishly, that she'd be in these Games. That she'd be in them so that he could see her again, and talk to her and gods above, he wanted to kiss her so badly.

His hopes were high. Really high, and so was this belief that by the end of this day, he was going to see her. At least once, either be it on television or in person. He was going to see her and remember all he had forgotten about her. He was sure of it, so he also hoped, that no one he knew, would be chosen for this year's reaping. No one he had grown to care about. Because he wouldn't be able to forgive himself, if he started mentoring them, and giving them false hope of a safe return when, possibly, Annabeth was their competition.

He took a deep breath as Eliza, District Six's lady from the Capitol, stood and like the year before said, "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds, be ever in your favor."

A chill ran down his back. Like the chill he had exactly one year before, just before his name had been called out. He let his smile fade and he glared, like a wolf would a prey, to Eliza's back. Although he knew, that chill was reason from a way, nastier lady. He sneered when she bent down to pick a slip from the girls's bowl.

"Eileen Ryal!" Percy sagged lightly, not recognizing the name, although when the girl stepped out of line he had to contain his urge to start a killing spree. She came out of the line of the thirteen year olds. Thirteen. This girl was thirteen. With blonde hair braided in two dutch braids. Her eyes were wide with panic, and tears were already forming. Two years, and she was already reaped.

This wasn't fair.

Percy was stiff when he shook her hand. When he sat back down and he stopped breathing when Eliza said, "For the boys." His own eyes widened, and that chill down his back…it came back. He swallowed as his blood went cold. "Joseph Peterson."

It took him every single will of power he had to not move, to not gasp or make some noise he'd regret. He stood, even stiffer than before, to shake his hand, and that's when he closed himself off again. Those mental shields rose from the ground around himself. A smile graced his lips, as he shook the hand and then everything happened so damn fast.

-.-

He didn't really waste any time, once the belongings he wanted with him where on the train, and he had claimed his room, he made his way to where both Eileen and Joseph were. Where the peacekeepers had left them. He found them there, sitting on chairs, looking at a television screen that was projecting the tributes. He didn't say a word, moving to stand behind them and perhaps catch that of District Six.

The program was on District Four, both tributes had volunteered, and were about around eighteen. So old, and experienced enough to be part of the Career's group. Then came District Five, and Percy didn't miss how upset he had looked. And…uncomfortable. He only hoped Snow wasn't going to make him pay for that. Eileen and Joseph were picked, no volunteers. Then came District Six.

When Katherine's name was picked, he gripped the armrest of the chair so hard he actually ripped the leather. Why were the fates always against him. But then, when the camera zoomed in on her, he was sure his eyes were tricking him, because he thought he was seeing a goddess beside the eighteen year old. A goddess except.

" _No!_ " The camera zoomed in to the being next to Katherine and Percy gasped. There she was. He started shaking. His eyebrows scrunched. His eyes unfocused. _There she was_. " _NO! I volunteer! I volunteer in her place!_ "

He bit his lip, keeping the small sound of triumph within. Annabeth. He was going to see her again. Today. Today had just turned from crappy to wonderful except…Joseph was sitting in front of him. Joseph _was here_. He was a tribute and he'd need to go against Annabeth. Neither of the two sitting in front of him were going to make it out alive. How could he lie to them.

He turned his eyes back to the screen. She was making her way to the podium and she was _crying_. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. He didn't care, that Genevieve, who had come in shortly after he had, gave him a questioning look. He didn't care because _she was there_. And right now, she was on a train to the Capitol. And tonight…the fates wouldn't be enough to stop him from seeing her.

Although, he had to wonder at the crying part. What did she have in mind. And, why was she dressed like a goddess. Did she want Snow to kill her for her impertinence. Did she want them all to die for it. But, he had to admit, he had never seen her more pretty. More beautiful. She was a goddess, in her own way. She was his goddess. And his only.

She acted throughout it all, crying and acting, so unlike her. So girly, which she was not. He wondered, gods he wanted to yell it out, why she was doing it, and what she had in mind for it. But for now, for now, he'd work on the two tributes sitting in front of him.

They continued to watch the reaping and once they were over the tv turned off and the two turned around to face Genevieve and him. He gave them a smile, and said, "Hi, in case, you missed last year's Games, I'm Percy Jackson."

-.-

Annabeth felt giddy, just at the thought of what she was doing. Gods that felt wrong. She felt giddy because she was about to go in an arena and kill teenagers. Great, the Capitol was getting to her brain. This year she had spent on her own had not paid off well.

Her eyes were bloodshot from all the fake crying she had done, and the thought that Jacob was beside her alone made it ten times worse. When she had told him she'd walk out alive, she had never really thought about it seriously, but now that it was happening, that they were _both_ in them…she wasn't so sure.

She sighed. They weren't going to stick together. She had a plan, and she would need to be alone in order for it to follow through. She'd be the bitch and leave him to find another someone to ally himself with, if he had any hopes. Her only hopes, was that he wouldn't survive so long for them to find each other at the end of the other's sword. At that point, she wasn't sure she'd be able to do it, but perhaps if it was someone else…

Gods she was a monster.

"I'm sorry," she said as she put her hand over his. They were sitting on leather couches. A whole buffet in front of them. Nothing like those on Olympus but she didn't mention it.

"What for?" he asked her, sounding oblivious to the point of her apology. "I understand you want to go home. And that _this_ , this isn't your home. You want to go back to that Percy god guy. I don't blame you."

She didn't like it when she swallowed down her pride and apologized, only for the other to make you feel worse for what you said or did. "I shouldn't have said I'd kill you, that was awful."

He finally looked back at her. "Life isn't fair."

"You have no idea."

"So I'm not waiting my last days moping, I'll live them as much as I can. And if you'll allow it, then I hope I'll be by your side."

It was a request. Already. An alliance request, that they stick together. "We will stick together. During training, but once we're in the arena…I made a plan. And…I'm not sure it'd be safe for you to be near me when we're in there."

He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. "Then I'll enjoy the next week of training. After that…every man on his own.

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize for love, Annabeth. I hope you'll be happy."

She laughed. "I'm not sure that day will ever come. But I'll try, for as long as I live."

He opened his mouth to speak, but then the two victors turned mentors came through the door. One a male, with brown hair and eyes, looking slightly drunk. The other, a girl, looking less drunk than he, but still like someone who had fallen under some type of drug or alcohol. To forget about the horrors, Annabeth realized. They ruined themselves to forget about the horrors that occurred in that arena.

She could only hope Percy hadn't done the same.

They sat in front of them, and started eating as Annabeth and Jacob already were. "So," he said. "Some tips, perhaps."

"Stay alive," the male, a much older guy than any of them. A showcase of how long it had been since the last male Victor. "Don't get killed. Try to survive. I don't know, what do you want to know?"

"Nothing," Annabeth cried out. "I won't survive either way."

The girl, what were their names, snickered. "Everyone says that when they come here. It's never different. The boy is always more willing, the girl…" She ran her eyes over Annabeth in a way that had Annabeth contemplating whether throwing the butter knife she was holding would look good sticking out of her eye hole or not. She didn't throw it. "She only cries."

"Didn't you?"

She laughed, mad laugh. "No," she said. "I wanted to win, and I won. So tell me _princess_ , do you want to live, or can you spare me the waste of time."

A sob shook her. _Clarisse_ used to call her Princess. "You can… you can go to hell!"

"Annabeth," Jacob scolded her.

"Oh, look," the female, she was no girl, she was in her late twenties at least. "We got a couple Bryce," she said as she nudged 'Bryce' on the sides. So he was called Bryce, at least that.

Jacob snickered. "We're not a couple."

"Sure you're not," the woman said. "Well you can call me Lora. If you really need to call me. Other wise…just don't bother. Anything else?"

Jacob was contemplating it. "Is it scary, the cornucopia?"

"Yes," Lora said, "You'll be terrified when you're standing on that platform. If you're lucky you'll even have some nasty sneering Careers next to you. Just run the hell away and try to survive in whatever the arena is."

"Do you have any idea on what it's going to be?" Jacob asked.

Bryce sighed and set down her fork. "Do you never close your mouth?"

"Let him talk," Annabeth wailed. "Gods we're screwed, the both of us. Please Jake, tell me you've got a plan?"

He looked at her like she had gone utterly insane. Oh and she had.

"I am so done," she said, standing up, and rattling the table. "With all of you."

She turned and left. Just like that. Like a boss.

 ** _-.-_**

Genevieve had done most of the talking, although, he realized he should have said some more, since he was after all the Victor of last year's games. He had more of a fresh memory of what had happened and how things were than she had. She was in her twenties, but she had been fifteen when she won hers, so it was a decade, if not more since those Games.

Guilt tore at him because of it but it didn't bother him as much as it should have. He'd give his counseling hours on other days, today…his mind was stuck on _her_. Only her, his every thought was followed by a whisper of her name. Every single damn thought. It physically hurt and he was getting a headache by how much he was thinking about her. Everything just turned on to her. On how beautiful she had looked in that dress and how painful that memory was already becoming.

His stupid mask slipped back on his face when the train pulled up in the Capitol, and he smiled, some of the citizens, women he had lain with and he smiled at them more, part of the deal. He shook their hands and they hugged him. They touched him. They had him like they wanted and he didn't protest. Genevieve didn't say anything, and neither did the two tributes, they were probably too distracted with the cheers and strangeness of them all to notice.

He thought it was better that way. Much better that way, it avoided questions he didn't want to answer.

He escorted them to the area where they'd be groomed beyond recognition and wished them both good luck. Because they would no doubt need it. He still remembered all those baths he had been forced to take, and how they had stripped him of so much hair he had never felt more naked. The way they touched and probed and cleaned, everywhere. Even where you didn't want them to clean you. It was embarrassing.

Luckily, this year, he didn't have to go through it again. Instead, he was showed their quarters, on the fifth floor of the training centre, the same one as last year. He went straight to the room that had been dubbed as his and ran for the showers. He was clean of his own, but it would be hours before the chariot ride and…he didn't want to look too bad and he had to pass the time somehow. Genevieve had gone to her room, so he went to his.

He took a bath, and played with the controls he hadn't had the pleasure to the year before. All the colors and themes. He tried changing the color of the walls and how big the bubbles came and he played with his powers. He was having so much _fun_ with himself, just enjoying the feel of that well being drained by a bit that he didn't realize someone was knocking on the door until Genevieve came through and caught him.

He yelped and his hands immediately flew down, to cover where the sun doesn't shine, and then remembered that the foam of the soap was already doing that. Red covered his cheeks, as it covered Genevieve's but she looked pissed, too. Something he'd done, no doubt. It was always something he had done. Always. There was no such thing as otherwise.

"Mmh?" he looked at her questioningly.

"What was wrong with you today?" she asked him as she sat down on a stool that was there. "This job is for two, I need your help. Your input. Percy, you won the games last year, they look up to you to tell them how to win this one."

He let himself sink down to the point he was submerged all the way to his neck. "They're not going to win them," he said honestly. She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. "No, listen! I love them. Joseph, his family took me in when my own died. But I saw the competition. They're no match."

No one was a match for her, for his Wise Girl. No one.

"That's really harsh to say, Perseus," Gen said, knowing exactly the effect the name had on him.

"Look, I'm sorry okay," he said. "But don't tell me that the year after _your_ games, you were the best mentor out there. You know how helpless things can get in there. They're not gonna— I don't think they're gonna win. Either of them."

And as harsh as it was, he hoped they wouldn't.

She looked ready to kill him, and for a moment he thought she would. Then she grabbed a bottle of soap and threw it at him, with hard force. He barely swatted it aside before it would hit his face. Barely. "Ow," he said just for show, showing his own temper was loosening. "What was that for?"

"You're an asshole! That's what!" she almost yelled at him. "I've been doing this for a decade. I've been meeting child after child and they've never come back. Darren was positive, and he hoped with me, that they would. Now you don't even give that positivity. Where has humanity gone? I hope you burn in hell, Perseus Jackson!"

Ouch. He didn't realize his words could hurt as much as they had. He didn't realize his actions could hurt like this. He hadn't thought about it, that's the point. He understood, though, what she meant. He could understand the feeling. Training and mentoring children that were going to their own slaughter. His words wouldn't help with her morale. Though she herself had opened old wounds.

"Been there, done that, thank you very much," he said as she walked away and she stopped at the threshold.

"What do you mean by that?" she said, and for a moment he thought about telling her. About telling it all to her. The gods, the war, the whole country that awaited beyond Panem's walls. All of it.

"Well, you've seen the scars on my back," he said with no shame. "And if you haven't I can show them to you. That's…what happens in hell."

"You said your father beat you with a belt," she said, saying what he had said to Manila a year ago during his Games. "How is that hell."

Without thinking, he said, "It wasn't my father." She fully turned around and looked at him, curiosity and concern coating her face. "For almost a year, I was…a prisoner, to get back at my father. The guy, he…hates my father. He's literally the _bane of_ — my father."

"I never knew," Gen said as she looked at him, her eyes trailing over what was visible. "I'm sorry to hear. What happened after?"

"My father died," he said. "There was no reason for him to hold me there so when a couple of friends came to get me out…he let them. And then, well before he could change his mind I had to come here. Then being a Victor had me untouchable. From him."

Truths and lies mixed together. It was always the best way to lie. To not tell the truth. His favorite he had learned from Annabeth.

Annabeth who he'd soon see.

"I'll try to be a better mentor," he then said. "But…I'm not the right guy. I'll do what I can. But, hope in these cases…it's never worth it. It will always be a let down."

"Last year it wasn't a let down," she said. "You won, and you came back."

Percy stood, letting the water cascade over his body. He didn't care about nudity, and he wasn't sure she cared either. Well, being a Victor for ten years surely must have had a toll on how much she cared. The Capitol citizens liked to touch everywhere, and Percy was sure the Victors let them because of threats President Snow exhibited on them.

He walked out, taking some water with him. "Yeah, I came back, but I'm nothing like Darren, and I'm also a sour arrogant pessimist." He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, covering himself. "I'm not sure that was as good as you had hoped."

"You know," she said, following him to his bedroom. "Sometimes I feel like that's all an act. You're different than when you talk to Cesear. It's like you're two different people. At home in the District, you're a humble modest man, who helps the old ladies with their heavy loads. Here in the Capitol, you become cockier and more arrogant. Outside, down in the city, it's like all you want to do is fuck."

He laughed. "I'm a male, what can I say."

"That, is no excuse."

"Well, it's my excuse," he said as he picked out a stupid outfit for the night and dropped it on the bed. "Now, as wonderful as the conversation has been. Mind if I change."

She chuckled. "I should probably do so, too. Just remember to be more supportive." With a smile, she left, and Percy looked down at the suit he had put on the bed. Gods he hated them.

-.-

He ended up asking Genevieve to tie the tie around his neck. He hadn't bothered the year before with learning and he wasn't going to start now. He was wearing another suit, blue because power and electricity and screw Zeus with his lightning bolts…That had…nothing to do with it.

They made their way down to the place where the chariot rides would take place. Percy couldn't understand how stupid and utterly useless it all was. Hours for cleaning and a makeover, for barely a minute out there, in front of the Capitol, filmed and watched by thousands. All for that. Well, he wasn't going to complain, although, when they arrived, a man in a sly suit handed him a letter, which he thought twice about not opening.

From President Snow, an address, and a time. Curse the man.

Then they were amongst the tributes and the horses were all around, harnessed to the chariots. He heard their voices in his head, luckily, neither paid him too much attention and they reached the fifth chariot. Joseph and Eileen were there already, Dorian talking to them. When Percy saw the stylist he grabbed his arms and shook it, then embracing the man in a one arm hug. A grin on his face as he then turned around, toward the chariot of Six and—

His world stilled.

She was there.

In the flesh.

He swallowed and blinked, even turned away.

Then looked back.

She was looking at him.

He heard his blood pumping in his ears.

The talking horse's voices were ringing in his ears and he felt something prick his cheek. Something wet. He brought his hand to feel and found that his eye was leaking, tears. He swallowed down. She looked so beautiful. It looked like their stylists had liked her clothing, because she was wearing a black tunic, adorned with jewels. Her hair braided down the side of her head with rings in it.

Before he could do something stupid, she turned to the boy next to her, Jacob Lewis, his name was. He saw their chemistry as she talked to him, his eyes widen when he saw him looking at her. He couldn't lift his eyes from her. He couldn't and he didn't try twice. She was so damn beautiful.

She said something to the two Victors, and then looked back at him and smiled at him, like a lover would and then she left. He mumbled something to Genevieve, something along the lines of, ' _I'll be right back_.' and went after her.

She knew where she was going because when he finally stopped, after having gone through a door, they were alone and she was in front of him. His hand were on her face immediately, cupping it in between his muscular fingers. He was walking and then she hit the wall softly, and there were tears on her perfect face and down his own as well.

Her own hands were on his neck, her fingers digging into his hair. Then she pushed herself to him and crashed her lips on to his. She, because he couldn't get enough of staring at her. He couldn't get enough— he was blasted out of his being. He lost himself in the kiss. He didn't let go of her, and she of him. Heck, Gaea could have appeared and he wouldn't have cared.

He claimed her like he had never claimed her, and she claimed him, not bothering with the scents that were so not his. He'd answer to those another time, for now, they had each other again and it was all that mattered.

He pulled away, and touched his forehead to hers, they're tears mixing as he looked in her eyes and their noses touched. So much raw emotion. Too much. It felt like he was being reborn again. Like the past year, he had gone into a cave and hadn't seen the sun until now. Until he had stepped out again and it shone so bright.

"It physically hurts, Annabeth," he mumbled, his lips so close to hers. His eyes so unfocused yet he could see every detail of hers.

"Percy," she cried and he squeezed his eyes shut. Too much time he hadn't heard his name on her lips. Too much. He quickly opened his eyes, afraid that the beauty in front of him would dissolve if he didn't. She was still there. "Never again."

He shook his head and then hugged her so her head was on his chest. "No," he agreed. "Never again."

She pulled away, biting her lower lip. "Don't you dare leave again, or I will throttle you!"

He laughed, which had a sob escaping her, and she was laughing, too, and they were a wailing mess. Both of them. He smiled down at her and when she smiled at him, it was the prettiest sight he had ever seen. Nothing could compare to it. To her lit up face after so long time without it.

"You must go," he told her. "The chariot— you— you look beautiful."

Her smile didn't waver. "I love you."

He kissed her again. "Annabeth Chase, I love you, too. Go." It took his everything to urge her to go rather than pull her close to him, so that her heat was his, but they had something to do.

"Percy, will I see you after this?"

He slowly shook his head, remembering the letter Snow had sent him, the address and the time. "No, not after this, but tomorrow— I promise you tomorrow I'll be there as much as you wish me to."

She didn't argue, she didn't ask why, she only grabbed the front of his shirt and crashed her lips onto his, much like she had when she had first kissed him all those years ago, just before he had gone to explode a volcano. And just like then, she disappeared right after.

He stared after where she had gone, the door still open, and then sighed, deeply and thoroughly through his nose. He took out the handkerchief in the pocket of his suit and wiped away his tears. Then he willed his skin dry, using his godly powers.

When he walked back to the chariots, where Joseph and Katherine were already standing inside, Genevieve didn't bother glaring at him. He felt like a huge and tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt like he could do anything and that he had all the goddam time to do it. Nothing would stop him now. No. Now that Annabeth was by his side again, there was _nothing_ that would stop them. _Nothing_.

He said a few encouragements to his two tributes, knowing they needed them and then quickly apologized to Genevieve for having disappeared for so long, and then asked him how long it had actually been. She was mad, and however much she seemed to have forgiven him before, it was now gone again. But he couldn't say that he regretted.

He allowed himself to look to the chariot of Six. _Her_ chariot, and the smile returned to his lips when she saw her. It was like she had never cried, like her hair had never come out the little ways it had. His eyes trailed over hers, and hers where on his, staring like he was. Drinking each other in, even from a distance.

Then the chariots started moving and he lost track of it, but amongst them all, she was the prettiest. The most radiant sun in the galaxy, the prettiest flower in the field, and little did they know, she was the deadliest of them all. The one that in three weeks worth of time would be returning to District Six.

That night, while she contently crashed on her bed, he made his way to the mansion he was told to go, where a lady, openly dressed welcomed him inside. Tugging him close to her as she did. Where he lost himself as the arrogant tribute who won the seventy-second Hunger Games. Nothing else.

-.-

Annabeth was the first one to the dining room. The mute servants the only ones beating her to it. She wore baggy pants and an oversized shirt. Her hair was a knotty mess, but she couldn't bother with it. She let it flow around her head, framing it as they would. She didn't care. Nope, the only thing she cared about was seeing _him_ again.

She raised her fingers to her lips, tracing them where his mouth had graced them only yesterday. Her grin was nothing short of romantic as she sat down on her spot and pulled food towards her. She was going to bloat herself up before midday. She was sure of it.

It wasn't fully her fault. The pastries were delicious, and the hot chocolate better than she had ever tasted. She allowed herself to eat, and ravish herself in the food. It was only right. Although, she understood what the Capitol was doing, filling them up to then kill them, like pigs for slaughter. She chuckled to herself, nothing short of feral.

Then footsteps.

Her eyes lit up when she saw Jacob coming towards her, dressed much like her. "Sleep well?"

"I could have slept better," she admitted. _With Percy beside her_.

He grinned and sat down, pulling one of the pastries she had been devouring to him. "I never thought," he started. "I never thought he was so big."

She laughed. Right, they hadn't talked about that little…encounter, yesterday at dinner. They hadn't because their mentors were douche-bags and she wanted to kill the both of them. "He was smaller last time I saw him." What she didn't say was because he had been starved for months, and he had been after all, huddled on himself. "But I won't complain."

"So you two had some time to talk, yesterday night?"

She shook her head. "I wish we had," she said. "Truth is, I haven't seen him since the chariot parade. He told me he had something to do."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you didn't ask what?" She shook her head as she took a whole biscuit in her mouth. "My, my. Annabeth Chase not getting to the bottom of things? What is going on?"

She chuckled. "There was no time," she told him. "And don't worry, tonight I'll get all the answers I want. And more."

He smiled at her, and she was glad to see real contentment in his features. He was happy for her. She was happy for it. Perhaps they wouldn't be friends in the arena, but right now, for now, nothing had changed between them. One year living together…perhaps things didn't have to be as bad as they looked.

"Imma tell you something," he said slowly and quietly, implying it was important. "If I were gay, I'd hit him up."

She swatted him as her voice carried out a heartwarming laugh. "Gods above, Jacob, don't start crushing on him. Please. All my life I've had competition. Not you too."

He laughed with her, softly rubbing his shoulder where she had hit him. "Really, competition? I'm imagining a long list."

She laughed at it. "You have no idea."

"I think the more he grins at the cameras the longer that list gets," he added, more seriously but still with a jokey tone to it.

"What do you mean?" she wasn't understanding what he was talking about.

He narrowed his eyes and she wondered whether she would have to threaten him to get the answer, but then, when she was about to ask again, he said, "You haven't seen all those eyes on him. Girls, women, the other tributes, men too."

She raised her eyebrows and her lips curled. "Nope, I haven't seen that," she admitted. But then, she realized she had noted it, but every time she had seen those he'd been in the picture too, and her eyes had been more on him than the others. "Gods, no." She gasped as she came to an idea of what had him occupied him the day before. "Fuck, I'll kill him."

"Who?" Jake was quickly worried and concerned.

Her eyes stared at him. "Everyone," she said. "Every fucking person in this shithole of a city."

"Annabeth—"

She had already stood, knocking her chair on the floor. "I'll see you later, Jake."

She didn't give him the possibility to answer because she was already walking away, back to her rooms.

-.-

She searched for him, and she searched and searched for him. A sort of panic arising her when she had gone to every single damn floor and searched as far she could without being turned away by the peacekeepers. Panic because what if Snow had him. What if Snow was seeing through her little joke and he was punishing her by hurting him, by keeping him away from her.

She stopped searching and started making her way back up, to the level of District Six, when the elevator doors were stopped from closing from a robotic hand. Her eyes lit up when she saw him enter. She pushed the button that would close the doors and flung her arms around his neck. Crashing her lips onto his as she moved with the momentum.

Too much already they'd been denied, and she wanted so many answers but she knew that those would need to wait to tonight. For now, she could relish in the fact that he was with her again. He was wrapped in her arms and his lips on hers. She bit his lip and then pulled away, holding his jaw with her hands.

"I thought you left," she said as tears flowed down her cheeks. "I was so scared."

He wiped away at her tears with his muscular thumbs, his eyebrows scrunched together. "I won't leave you, Annabeth. Not without warning you."

"I was afraid Snow had you," she clarified. "He threatened you so many times—"

He pulled her close to his chest and she let him press her head to it. "Shh," he calmed her down. "He won't. Not unless we do something real bad. Don't worry, Wise Girl. I'm not going anywhere without you."

"I searched for you everywhere in this building, I couldn't find you. I just panicked."

He smiled at her sadly as he nodded his head. "I wasn't here. Not since after the chariot parade."

"Where were you?" she urged him.

He toyed with a lock of her hair, smiling as he did so before he looked back at her. "Tonight, after you have dinner with your team, come to level five. You're allowed to spend the night in my room. No one will bother us. I promise, that I'll answer all your questions then. Right now, you should be going to train with the other tributes." He finished by brushing a finger on her cheek.

"You promise you'll tell me?" she asked him, grabbing his hand and kissing his fingers.

He nodded as he pushed his lips on hers once more. "I swear it," he said, his breath on hers.

She pecked him again before pulling back and wiping at her tears, while she pressed the five button in the elevator. He grabbed her hand as the elevator went up and held it tight between his hands. "It's so small."

She chuckled. "Maybe your's is big."

He pulled her close to him and turned her around and he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder as he did son. Then the elevator door opened and he pressed a soft kiss on her bare neck and then urged her to go. Not that she wanted to, but her legs betrayed her and she walked away from him, hearing him sigh as the doors closed as they brought him higher up.

.

 **So yea...I dont know what this last bit was but I hope you enjoyed.**

 **Reviews and follow boost for the morale of this story, I swear.**

 **HUnter**


	11. Part 2 - Chapter 10

**Welcome back, I have not forsaken this story for another six months, I promise. I'm actually committed. I have around to part 4 done, and this is only part 2, so this is going to go on, for however long it takes. I enjoy writing tbh, there is something to writing...something that just fills me.**

 **Warning : this might be a bit weird, a bit bad. Anyways, enjoy:**

 **.**

 **X-X-Part 2-Chapter 10-X-X**

 **...**

She met Jacob in the training room. He was already working on it by sparring with one of the instructors. The careers, watching him like vultures would their meal. She hated them for it. She didn't want them to target him as one of the weak ones. No, _she_ needed to be targeted off as one of the weak ones. She wanted to, and perhaps, it would bring some excitement to these games.

So to take their eyes off of him, she picked up a set of knives, being clumsy as she did so, although as her fingers grazed the hilt of one it was like she had never stopped using it. It was like the year that had passed with her not holding one had never really passed. But she was clumsy to pick them up and hold them, going as far as holding it in the wrongest way possible.

She walked into the knife throwing range and made her best to seem like she was tripping on herself, making a loud sound to be sure to attract their attention. Then she set the knives down on the counter, she made sure to make them clatter out of place. Her hands shook and she looked around herself, the careers were watching. Good. Time to embarrass herself.

She picked up one of the knives again and stood at the line, facing the dummies she'd have to hit. They would be an easy hit, of she would try her worst. She would manage to hit them and then some more. But she was not there to prove how good she was, on the contrary, she was there to prove how bad she was.

So she threw and aimed out of the circles of the dummy. The knife hit the outside, but she had thrown it with such little force that it didn't stab into the material. Instead, it clattered to the ground. The blush that appeared on her cheeks was not all fake. She was embarrassed. Call it her hubris, but she was embarrassed. Especially when the male from one started laughing, followed by the male of two.

She'd kill them first. Then the other careers who were looking at her with disgust.

Screw them.

Jacob was forgotten by them, and that was all she needed from them, although…she threw another knife. This one too clattered on the ground. She blushed again, and his her face in shame. Then, without retrieving the knives, she left the room, hurrying away, the careers' eyes trailing after her. They were giving her so much attention she craved for even more.

She walked over to another station, this one was for plants and their uses. In last year's games, she wasn't sure it would have helped, but perhaps in this one, it would. She could only hope so. Soon enough, the boy and girl from Five where there, too. Percy's tributes. She didn't send them away, instead smiled at them fondly and continued with her things. Then, when she felt like they were close to leaving, she talked, wanting to know something.

"You two, I find, are the luckiest," she said in a very _girly_ tone.

They exchanged looks, and the boy, Joseph, said, "What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "Have you _seen_ your mentor? He's so hot. And also, he won the games last year. That must be so much help, I swear. Mine are two old drunks."

Joseph smirked. "Eh," he said. "He hasn't really been of much help, actually. He keeps more to himself, really."

Annabeth cocked her head to the side. Why would he do that? They were from his District, wasn't he supposed to help them in any way he could, unlike what Bryce and Lora had done so far. Those old sots.

"I'm sorry to hear," she said. "Although he's still really hot."

Was there shame in her voice when she said that. No. He was hers, and she could say that about him as many times as she wished. No one would prevent her from boasting about him to others. No one. And there was a lot she could boast about. A lot.

-.-

Percy walked along the mansion, hating his feet from betraying him and bringing him closer and closer and closer to the snake that was the President of this nation. He hated him, and there would be serious trouble when he and Annabeth figured out a way to bring him down. Seriously _serious_ trouble.

One step forward at a time, he made it to the room outside his meeting chambers and waited for the summoning. He wasn't the only one, he realized and quickly enough, one of the Victors from four, Finnick Odair, talked to him.

"If it isn't Percy Jackson," he said with a grin. "Our latest Victor and newest treasure for the Capitol."

"I'm not their treasure," Percy was quick to answer. "But I'm getting the vibe you are."

He chuckled. "Don't lie to yourself, _Percy_. It's not good for the soul."

"Why are you here?"

"President Snow summoned me," he replied. "Isn't that the same reason you're here?"

Percy actually shook his head. "Actually no, I asked for a meeting with him. I'm lucky I guess, that he deemed me worthy to abide to my request."

"Skilled fighter with a smart tongue," Finnick said. "Is there something you're not good at?"

He steered the conversation away from him. "I don't know. But what I do know, is that you're just as good. After all, you're here, aren't you?"

Finnick cocked his head to the side. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Snow mentioned you, _Finnick Odair, Victor of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games_ , when he told me about the _job offer_." He knew Finnick knew exactly what he was talking about. "And, who was the other one? Oh, yes, Gloss, right?"

The Victor from Four grinned. "I guess we're the same then?" he said as the door clicked and slid open, a woman stepping out and calling Percy's name.

Percy lingered next to Finnick, not turning yet. "Not even similar."

Then he turned and…— He stopped breathing for a moment. He stopped understanding. He stopped feeling. Because the woman that had called out his name was no woman at all, but a monster, an empousa, _Kelly_. He took a slow breath, and his thoughts and feelings came back. Rushed back into him. An empousa was here.

His legs locked. He couldn't move. Finnick was looking at him oddly and Kelly…gods she was grinning, exposing her fangs, yet Finnick didn't see them. He was oblivious to the monster in front of them. Then he felt it, the presence, inside the room where Snow was in, where he was due in. The presence that compelled him to go there, a soft lullaby ringing at the back of his mind. The aura that even with a wall in between was so clearly there. He could feel her. His captor.

Gaea was behind those walls, waiting for him.

"Mr. Jackson," Kelly's voice was a shrill to his ears. "President Snow is ready to see you."

He took a step back. He _jerked_ back. His head shook slowly from side to side, in denial. His eyes were wide because—because he was afraid. As bad as the previous year had been, as tormented as his mind had been…he'd thought of it before that perhaps being beaten into oblivion was better, but now, that he seemed so close to going back to being locked away…

He was afraid of it.

He didn't want to go back.

He was…he wasn't sure. He just didn't want to see her. Not now. Not today, not ever.

He didn't care that _Finnick_ was so close to laughing but was keeping it in because he knew the person next to him was so deadly. He didn't care, he just wanted to be _out_. To have never requested this meeting, to never have had to come here and inadequately meet _her_.

"Jackson, are you okay?" Finnick asked him, the smile on his voice.

He glared at Kelly, a new form of bravado upholding him. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Then he took his quick paced steps to the door, and stared at Kelly in the eyes, not daring to yet look inside the office, where that enemy aura was pulsing against his own, pushing him into submission. "Last time I saw _you_ , you were dead," he said in Greek. "Her majesty found you worth her time?"

She laughed, then grinned, tracing her finger against his scar on his cheek. "I've always liked you best, Jackson. If you're free, you could always take me up on my offer."

He stepped through the threshold, not daring to step further inside. "I think I'll pass."

Then she shut the door behind him, locked her fingers around his neck and shoved him towards them. Towards President Snow and Gaea. He straightened himself out and held his head high, chin high. His eyes were avoiding hers as much as he could, and instead, they locked on Snow's green ones. Snake.

"I'll thank you for agreeing to meet me today," he started, ignoring Gaea who seemed to be getting affected by it.

Snow cocked his head to the side. "Aren't you going to wonder about our…guest. Surely you're interested."

He controlled his breathing and kept his eyes on Snow. "Unless she's here to kill me, or _try_ to lock me in a cell again, then no. I'm not interested as to why she's here."

Not fully true. He was dying to know what she was doing here. But he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. Not ever.

Gaea chuckled and the sound…it chilled him to the bone. How many times had she chuckled, literally holding his life in her hands? How many times had she chuckled, after seeing him break down? He clenched his jaw and scowled, his mind starting an internal battle, trying to make him submit to memories he didn't want to remember.

"My," her voice made his blood run cold. "After spending as much time as you did in my dungeons, I'd have thought you'd begin to understand that this sort of attitude gets you nowhere."

He amended. "I do my best to impress."

"As I have witnessed, on countless occasions," she said, sitting down leisurely into the chair behind the desk. The one he had no doubt was really Snow's. The President didn't say anything, instead walked to stand next to her. She delicately gestured to one of the two chairs in front of her, in front of him. "Take a seat. Let's talk like civilized beings for the time being. A small truce for this hour, before you go back to hell."

 _Take a seat_. It compelled him to do so. To sit in front of her and actually be ready to listen to what she wanted to say. To have this moment of truce, between him and her. This moment of peace where he didn't need to fear what she was going to do. He hated the idea, of doing what she was asking him to. Yet, he sat, right where she was indicating him to sit. A smile graced her lips. A scowl his features.

"How do you fare?" she asked casually. "Is Panem to your likings?"

He didn't respond. He didn't want to give her the slightest response, but there was this feeling within him, pushing him to respond to her. To tell her the awfulness of it all. Pushing him to ask her to end it. For him and for Annabeth.

He fought against it.

He wouldn't break.

He knew the feeling, he'd felt it for so long during those torturous months under her watch. Under her pressure. He was familiar with it, with how it bent his mind to do what she wanted. To tell her exactly what she wanted to hear. And he was unfamiliar with how to block it, to not listen to it. Give in to it.

"Would you like to go back?" she asked him after the pause became too long. His heart beat faster. "We're right here, I doubt there would be complications. Or maybe…I could take Annabeth and leave _you_ here. How would that feel? Would you fight back?"

His jaw clenched, muscles bobbing. "What do you want me to say?" _Was he giving in by allowing her to feed words in his mouth?_

"I want you to beg," she said. _He'd already given in, long before this moment, he just didn't want to admit it to himself_. "I want you to beg to have her close to you. To have her survive her games." She leaned in, over the table. He was close enough that they now stood mere inches form the other. He didn't move back. Something _kept_ him there. A force too big for him to fight. Strong enough that he didn't move away when a nail caressed his sharp jaw. The more he stayed in the room with her, the more he was starting to feel like he _owed her something_.

He disgusted himself.

He jerked up, standing up, her touch leaving him. He looked away. "I will not beg," he told her defiantly. "Not to you, or any man."

"What happens when all that's left to you is that? Or her death?" Gaea asked him, the gentleness leaving her.

He didn't look at her. "Then, I'll see when that time comes."

He forgot what he had come here to discuss with President Snow. Her presence betrayed him, betrayed his plan. He couldn't stay here much longer without slowly falling apart. His mind already fighting a battle, he couldn't afford to keep it going for much longer. He had to get out. Screw his request.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," he started. "I'll get back to the training center."

He saw her looking behind him, signaling for the empousa to keep him there. He focused his senses, the particles in the air that belonged to his terrain to feel her movements. He turned, in time to grasp her hand, coming down with the hilt of a sword on his neck. His metallic arm much stronger than her flesh one, he was about to force the sword from her grip when she kicked him with her own cybernetic limb. Right on the shin.

He let go of her wrist and took steps back. "I am not here to fight," he told the Earth Mother.

"Get him down," Gaea said, ignoring him, to Kelly.

The empousa struck again, swinging her sword at his neck. He crouched down to avoid it, his hand grabbing his pen, and the next time Kelly made to strike him, she found it blocked by Riptide. Parrying the blow and going as far as to hit her with the flat edge of his blow across the stomach. Winding her. She still lunged with her talons, making a wide arc in front of her.

He cut off her hand. She yelled, then hissed at him. "I will have your head!"

He kept his sword high, leveled in front of him. Then looked at the Earth Mother. "I won't fight you!" he said loudly. "I've done what you asked me," he said to President Snow. "Just let me be with her. I haven't done anything wrong. Not since I got here…Let me go."

"I would have an oath from you," Gaea said.

"Screw you," he said without thinking twice about it.

The Earth Mother nodded. "Good enough," she said to herself before turning to the President. "Next time you call me here I will not tolerate him this way. I want him on his knees," she hissed at him.

Snow bowed his head. "As you wish it."

Percy watched as the Earth Mother and Kelly both dissolved into sand granules and then vanished. Leaving behind the sand to fall on the floor. He let out a deep and shaky breath, lowering his sword. His breathing erratic. Not for the squabble he'd had, but for her words. His fight might yet not be over.

"Leave," Snow said as he sat down in his chair. Took up a pen and started to read the documents in front of him. When Percy lingered he then added, looking at him, "Do not think this a kindness. Your girl is still going to participate in Games. That might break you still."

Percy approached the President. "If she dies," he said, his voice shaking. "I swear on the whole fucking universe I will destroy everyone within this damned city. And I will kill you, slowly."

Snow only grinned. "I will not repeat myself again," he said. "Leave. Go to your woman's embrace. While you still have the chance."

He lingered again, but Snow didn't say anything no more. So he touched the end of his sword, shrinking it back into a pen. Placing it in his pocket. Then he left without another word.

The moment he was outside the office he stopped for a moment, he felt the anger, at being so weak in her presence. He felt the ache to _kill_ someone just as he stood there. He felt horrible. It felt horrible. He felt weak. Weaker. His bones felt like lead. Yet there was someone else in the waiting room. Another Victor. Someone well known. He had to act like the _new him_ , arrogant and cocky.

He couldn't though. He punched the closest wall.

"Are you good," the other asked him.

Percy only glared. "Leave."

-.-

He didn't see her until after he'd had his dinner and said goodnight to Genevieve, and the two tributes.

They kept his distance, and when he told them that someone would be meeting him after dinner, and to please not be present, it hadn't taken long to convince him. They all dispersed to their rooms, or perhaps Joseph and Eileen would spend some time together, before leaving to their own rooms. It's what he'd done every night with… _her_.

Someone, he didn't have the heart to think about.

Not now that Annabeth was on her way.

He felt her outside of their quarters before one of the peacekeepers had a chance to tell him. He went to open the place up to her on his own. When he saw her, it took control not to simply flung himself onto her, instead, grab her hand and lead her through the floor, until they reached his room.

The moment the food was closed behind them, they moved in synchrony, like they were expecting the other's movement. He picked her up under her legs at the same time she jumped on him, her legs wrapping around his middle. Their lips met, and he crashed them onto the wall.

This was happening like it was happening.

Perhaps it was lust at this point more than it was love, but he _needed_ it.

She needed it too, it was clear.

He was happy to know that.

His mouth left hers, instead of trailing down her neck, on her chest, as hers ventured the same path.

When his arms started straining due to the harsh force, he walked them to his bed, and placed her on top of it, getting on top of her in the same movement. His lips didn't move from her neck, she, on the other hand, stretched it out, and entangled her fingers into his scalp. They grabbed his black locks possessively. He loved it. His hand reached for one of her legs and ran down the length of it.

He wanted to feel her skin. _Her soft skin_ beneath the track pants she wore.

Honestly, he wanted to feel _her._

He was so ready for it.

She seemed to be on the same train of thought as she pushed herself up, and then her hands were on his chest. They were unzipping the zipper and they were pulling it off, all the while, their lips never parted. They remained glued to one and the other. It was like there was a part of him —of both of them— that disabled them from separating.

His sweater fell on the floor, then, he stopped their kiss, pulled her shirt off and then shoved her back onto her back. _This was it_. He told himself. He wriggled out of his own shirt and…things went off from there.

.

 **Review follow and favorite and you can have virtual cookies (::)**

 **That was once a thing.**

 **Anyways, thank you for reading.**

 **Hunter**


	12. Part 2 - Chapter 11

**Hello there, I had honestly thought I'd be better at uploading this since I have so much of it actually written but my bad I guess. Holy god. I might upload again in two weeks, or maybe it'll be in two months. I don't know. I do try my best though. Maybe I'll do a double update...yeah I think that might be a thing.**

 **Anyways, enjoy.**

 **.**

 **X-X-Part 2-Chapter 11-X-X**

 **...**

It was long after that they stopped, tired. They lay, not even under the blanket, oh hell no, the thin layer of fabric that served as a ' _blanket_ ' was on the floor, having been kicked off during their little —long— love making session. It wasn't as though he cared, or was cold. Quite the contrary, in fact, he was sweating, and their limbs were entangled with one another, flesh on flesh.

They weren't going to need it.

His hair was wet, sweaty, but it was a good kind of sweaty. It was sweaty for a reason he enjoyed thinking about. Like he enjoyed thinking that she was there, her skin touching his. That they had spent the most splendid hours together, and that finally after more than a year, they were together again. He felt like nothing could stop them, not when they were together. _Not when they had each other_.

It was all he needed in life to survive.

Her.

He was running his index finger and thumb down a lock of her blonde hair, it wasn't as sweaty as his own, but it wasn't its normal texture either. It made him content to see her like this, wasted, exhausted, but for a good reason. This had been something they had both craved, her perhaps more than him, but it was nice. He liked the thought of it. He liked the thought of _her_.

Her hand was on his shoulder, tracing where skin met metal.

Where scarred tissue met prosthetic.

It was an intimate touch, one he hadn't let his … ' _costumers_ ' take. That was too much for him. It was sensitive and only her touch didn't make it so. Her touch soothed him, others' not so much.

He loved her.

She was the only one in his mind.

She had been the only one in his mind during those last minutes in his games, and she was the only one he had thought about in those months following the games, up until now. Until he had seen her so beautiful in a sea of slaves until he had seen her volunteer for a girl he didn't know. Until the day before, where he had seen her again, in real life, felt her and kissed her.

She was all he could think about.

It was making him go mad.

It wasn't the right time, but…he needed to tell her, more than it could remain under his throat.

He disentangled himself from her, the mood of love dispersed in the air. It turned tense instead. He knew she understood he needed to tell her something serious. He stood from the bed, grabbing his pants from the floor and swinging them on.

Suddenly, he was feeling bad. He was feeling like he needed to cover himself up from her, even though he knew it was right if he didn't. He wanted _her_ to cover herself up. He was getting these imaged in his head which he didn't want, but they were coming and he couldn't do anything to stop them.

He placed his hand on the window and gazed at the city below. Still alive with joy. None of them feeling bad that in one week time, twenty-four teenagers would enter an arena, and only one of them would walk out alive. His thoughts didn't linger on that for long, instead, they switched to something worse. To what came after he'd come out of the arena. The conversation he'd had with Snow, what he'd been doing since the Victor's Tour.

He needed to tell her.

"I've cheated on you." The words came out too quickly for him to fully know he'd said them, but the reaction he saw in the reflection of the glass was all he needed know that he'd said it. All he needed to do now was wait for her response. Which he hoped wouldn't destroy either of them.

Her features were angry and displeased at first, but then they softened. "With Manila?"

He took a moment to understand her words, then he turned around, his face clearly showing his response. "No," he said. "No, nothing ever happened between the two of us."

She frowned, her nose crinkling up. "Then with who?"

He turned back to the window, raising his arm again, resting it on the window and placing is forehead on his cybernetic arm. "Women," he said slowly, careful not to look at the reflection of the glass, he didn't want to see her reaction. "From the Capitol."

"Was it Snow?" she inquired, her voice soft.

"Yeah."

"How many?" her voice softer. There was fumbling on the bed. Her body slithering around it. Then there were sheet movement and light footsteps.

He knew she was next to him when he replied. "I don't know." He bit his lower lip, yet he couldn't bear to make eye contact with her. All he could do was stare outside, at the lights below. The cars moving, the small ant like-sized people walking down the streets.

Her arms slithered around his upper body, they were cold and he flinched. She flinched for half a second before continuing. Her hands met in front of his stomach and she held on tightly. Her lips ended on the back of his neck. They trailed soft kisses. Then one of her hands left his stomach and moved behind him, down to the small of his back. He whimpered softly.

"I still love you," she whispered into his ear. "I know you wouldn't otherwise."

Moving his head away from the window, and turning it to look at her. Her fingers were still there, on the small of his back. He grabbed her hand still on his stomach with his cybernetic and his other moved to his back. It flattened hers out on the small of his back. He turned his head slightly and caught her lips into a kiss. It was sweet and careful. Almost new.

She was ready to forgive him for it.

He broke away from it, disentangled himself from her and turned around so they were facing one and the other. "Not to be the bearer of bad news," he said slowly. "But I saw Gaea today," he told her carefully. "She didn't do anything. I just…felt like it was right to tell you."

She stepped back, shocked and scared. "What?" she asked quickly. "Where? When?"

He shook his head. "No, it's…" He couldn't say _okay_ , because it wasn't. It had been everything but. Only a big reminder that whatever she had done to him, was still there, deep inside. It was all there. "I went to Snow, but then she was there. Nothing happened." Which was not a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. She'd told Snow, that next time she came she wanted to see him on his knees, that must have counted as something. Yet he didn't want to worry her.

"Percy," she said, longing the word and smoothening it out. "Promise me, that if something happens you'll tell me! I don't want to lose you again."

He pulled her in, hugging her. "You won't," he told her, his lips next to her ear. "I'm not going anywhere." He pulled away and looked at her. "But tell me, how are you planning on winning the games?" He had no doubt she would, but still, saying it out loud like that felt like a betrayal for the two tributes sleeping on the same floor as he. For the two tributes, he was going to need to mentor through the next week, who he wasn't going to see again after.

She stepped back and sat down on the bed. "Not like you did," she told him. "You…bided your time hid from others, took care of one. I'm not going to do that. What I'm planning, is to make them all believe I'm helpless, and Percy I will then kill each and everyone one of them." He frowned.

"Annabeth!" he said, and he was almost disgusted enough that it came out in his voice.

"What?" she asked, defensively. "I saw your games last year. They're worse the more you stay in that arena. You go insane. Gods, did you know how _you_ looked in your last hours."

His whole facial expressions relaxed. Remembering what had happened in those last acts. He'd gone on a killing spree, and there had been no remorse on his side of the line. None whatsoever, except their faces, now haunted his every night. Along with Gaea's and the Giants'.

She stood from the bed and started pacing. "I'm not like, gonna _hunt_ them. But if I come across them, I'm fighting them. No allies, no friends. Just. Fighting. The quicker it's done the sooner I can leave that arena."

"I have nightmares, Annabeth," he told her, stepping towards her. "And I didn't kill many. But I see their faces every single night when I close my eyes. And that last one! It terrifies me, what happened. You can't except to walk in there, kill them all, and expect to be okay—"

"I'm not okay!" she interrupted him. "Even now, what are some more nightmares gonna do."

"They're gonna break you," he said softly. "Like, they tore _me_ apart."

She looked at him slightly sad. "Percy, you were gone for long," she told him, and suddenly he felt really sick. He thought about what she was going to say before she said it, hoping it wasn't it. But it was. "We were forced to kill mortals and demigods." He looked away from her. She tried to get to him, but he actually pushed her away slightly. "Percy it was the only way. Things got really bad, really quickly."

He shook his head. "Not bad enough to just kill _people_."

"Gods dammit, you weren't there!" she told him as she also distanced herself from him. "Gaea took control of _everything._ Mortals know about our world and their _hunting us down_. Hell who even knows if there's anyone left at this point! We were forced to kill them, Percy. I wouldn't have other wise."

He clenched his jaw, and she saw her eyes look at it for a second, her frown loosening. "No, I wasn't there," he told her, agreeing with her. "But there are better ways."

She shook her head. "Last time I was there, all the gods but two, were gone," she said, mad now. "There was no better way. Believe me, I don't like killing, but I will do whatever it takes to keep our race alive. We were cursed from the day we were born, Percy, I'll be damned if I let any of us die without a fight."

He sat down on the bed and buried his face in his hands. He'd been a prisoner of Gaea's for what…years down in Tartarus, but in the world of the living, it had been a couple of months. He had still been seventeen once he got out. Still been as old as when he'd gone in. So, how exactly had things managed to fall to hell so badly so quickly?

What was worse than all of it, was how uniformed about it all he was. He knew gods had been taken, but he wasn't aware that only two remained free, and that was a year before because they'd been stuck here in this cursed country for a year now.

He walked over to the bedside drawer, picked up the lamp and then threw it across the room, where it met the wall and broke on contact. Annabeth was looking at him, not sadly like before, but understandingly. He let his back hit the wall, and then he slid down, keeping his legs close to his chest, and then his fingers in his hair, pulling at them.

"We have to get out of here," he said softly, but he knew she heard when she sat down next to him, her hand on his arm. He let his hands fall away from his hair, and then looked at her. "They're dying, and we're dying, and gods above, I just wanna go back."

She set her head down on his shoulder. "I tried leaving, they caught me in a matter of days," she informed him. "Then they threatened you, and I didn't try again. Percy, we're trapped, and I don't know what to do, except go on with what they're doing here and hope for the best. I want to go back as well, more than you know, but…I don't know how. And I haven't got the resources to find out. Or the gods damned time."

"We have to try something," he told her. "We can't stay here, while our friends, our _people_ are getting slaughtered out there. We have to help them. Please, we need to find a way out of here."

She closed her eyes, and he saw a tear spill. "I don't know how," she told him, "and I am scared, that if we try something and they catch us…that they're going to hurt _you_ for it. Percy, there's nothing I've been more afraid for the past year. Not you in the games, not the peace keepers, or Gaea, just _you_ , and how if I so much as stepped a hair out of line, he was going to know and he was going to punish _you_ for it. I can't stand it and call me a coward, but I'd rather play his stupid games, and find a proper and _safe_ way to get out of here, than force it and end up back here, worse for wear."

Her head laid on his shoulder, and he grabbed her hand in his. "You're right," he said to her, agreeing. Seeing where she was coming from. He'd gotten the same threat from Snow a hundred times now. ' _Do this, or she pays for it_ '. "Then," he said. "If we cannot manage to go back to our own place, then we help them here." A promise he'd made to himself. "We fight for these people, Annabeth. Once you win your games, we can start hearing about some rebel forces, there must be some, and if there aren't then we start it. These people…they're _slaves_ to the Capitol, and it's disgusting. _We're_ slaves to the Capitol. I won't have it."

"So let's swear on it," she said, as she tightened her hold on his hand. "If we cannot help our own, then we shall help these districts. For what is happening here is so wrong."

He nodded. "Yes, I'll swear on that," he said.

"Me too," she added.

 _-.-_

A week passed quickly enough. She didn't make any allies, and no one tried to talk to her either, except Jacob. Jacob stood by her sometimes during training, as she focused on non-combat skills such as distinguishing flowers, and plants and roots, which were edible and which were not. Making fire, and fishing hooks. That sort of thing. The boy stood by her some of the times, others he went on to try to improve some of his archery skills, and then knife throwing when the pack of the careers wasn't crowding over it all.

She saw Percy on the nights, but not all of them, unfortunately. Some, he explained, he had other duties to attend to, and she tried not to cry or to punch someone in the face when she heard that.

She met the two tributes from his district, and she really wished she didn't. Joseph knew him personally, apparently, as Percy had told her, he had lived in his house for the first six months before the games, before winning and being given one of the mansions in the victor's village. And the girl, Eileen, she was only thirteen, and she was disgusted of herself for thinking she would be able to kill any one person she crossed once in that arena.

One thing that was going well, though, was her act. Everyone, both tributes, and game makers all thought and believed that she was just a silly girl, afraid of the idea of being in the games, who was utterly terrified. Once, one of the careers, the male from one, put his foot out to trip her when she was passing, and instead of avoiding the fall, she had tripped full on. He was one who was going to pay once the games started unless someone else got to him first.

The last day was going to be the longest one yet. When she had the personal evaluation with the game makers, she walked in pretty timidly and tried to throw knives at target, aiming for the outer lines, and hitting exactly where she wanted. Once or twice, the knives didn't hit anything at all. Some of the men on the balcony laughed.

She forced herself to cry, and when she bid the game makers good bye, she did so in a very, very soft voice, barely audible.

-.-

They were all sitting on the sofas in front of the television, as it turned on, for mandatory view. Percy sat in the middle, Genevieve next to him, and Jospeh on the other side. Eileen was sitting, almost curled up, next to Genevieve. And then their various makeup artists on either side of them. Elizabeth, was on a couch all on her own, looking at her really long nails.

The numbers started coming up on the television as each tribute passed by. From one, the male got a nine, while the female got a ten. From two, it was a ten and an eight. Three was a five and a four. Four was an eleven from the male and a nine from the female. Joseph came up next, and he came out with an eight.

There was cheering, and he was the first to say: "Congrats, man. One of the careers got eight. You're way up there."

"Yeah one of them also got an eleven, and most of them got a ten," Jospeh was quick to be gloomy.

Then came Eileen's score, and that came out as a six. Genevieve was happy. "Yes, girl! That's awesome."

The male from six also got an eight, and then Annabeth… "Annabeth Chase," Caesar Flickerman said. "With a five." He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. Which was quickly followed by fear. If she was making herself out to be some weak opponent, she was painting just as much of a target on her back.

From seven they got a six and a five. Eight, a six and a seven. Nine, a seven and a seven. Ten, a nine, and a seven. Eleven, an eight and a seven, and Twelve, a four and a five. It was depressing. The year before the altogether age had been ranging on sixteen-year-olds. This year it was averaging on fourteen-year-olds. The Capitol _would_ pay if it was the last thing he did.

-.-

Two hours later, they were down in the backstages of the theater from which the interviews were taking place, and he was looking at the screen displaying live footage. He barely heard the ones from one, two, three and four. He tried to listen to the ones from his own district but found his attention taken from _her_ as she stepped through, with her whole team.

She was wearing a skin tight body dress and his eyes almost popped out of their socket as he looked at her. Or well, goggled at her, because in his eyes there was no one in the whole world, Aphrodite included, that was prettier than her. Her stylist had really done her good this time around. A hugging dark dress, her hair loose around her shoulders, with little shining trinkets within, holding it in place behind her head.

He wanted to approach her, tell her something, but as Genevieve was right there, next to him, watching the interview through the screen, he had to be satisfied with simply making eye contact with her. She avoided his eyes, except for when she was walking past him, to which she smiled fondly at him, and then winked at him. He hoped no one else caught that, or they'd know why he was blushing.

He turned his eyes back to the television. " _Annabeth Chase!_ " Caesar Flickerman yelled in his microphone as the audience applauded. When the camera zoomed in on her face, she was _crying_. " _Oh, no,_ " Caesar was quick to say, lowering his voice, as they both took a seat. " _Tell me, dear, what's gotten you crying so badly_?"

She wiped the tears from her cheek. " _God, you have no idea how utterly terrified I am_ ," she said and it sounded so convincing he flinched. " _This whole thing_ , _I just wish I didn't have to go in there tomorrow_."

He squeezed her shoulder. " _I am sure you will do just fine, darling,_ " he said to her sweetly, and Percy didn't like the way he said it. Although he knew that tomorrow Caesar's mouth would be hanging open in surprise when he saw her. " _But tell us, how's the Capitol been so far_."

She smiled through the tears as she wiped more of them off her cheek. " _Amazing_ ," she said to him. " _Truly. The food is so good, and I don't think I've ever slept so good. Or if I have, it's been a very long time since. But the food…god, especially chocolate. Helps a lot with the crying_." Caesar laughed, and so did the crowd.

" _I just talked to the other tribute from your district, his name is Joseph? He seems like a really nice fella, perhaps you can stick with him,_ " he suggested to her.

" _I guess we'll see tomorrow_."

" _And indeed we will._ " That's when he stood up, leading her up as well. " _Everyone, Annabeth Chase!_ "

The crowd applauded, and from the side, he heard the male from one laughing as she stepped back through. The tears were already gone from her face, and she just looked tired. They're eyes crossed, and he understood her question: ' _Was my acting good enough?_ ' To which he could only nod his head yes. Then she was walking away, and he lost sight of her.

-.-

He was sitting in bed, looking down at his cybernetic hand, tracing the lines of it when someone knocked at the door and he jumped to his feet to go answer it. Annabeth was right there, looking messy and exhausted, and he grabbed her hands and pulled her inside. She kissed him the moment the door closed behind her, and they were crashing on the bed, with him beneath her, a moment after. His arms wrapped around her body as she crushed him. Her hair falling all around him.

She fumbled with his pants, and whatever they had was quickly over, and they were just lying next to each other then. One next to the other, cuddling, wrapped around each other, their legs tangled up in a mess. His chest tight on her back, as he trailed soft kisses on her neck. Her hands holding tightly his, and tracing patterns on his arms.

"I'll miss you," he told her, "and every day I'll be scared for you, Annabeth. Because as good as you are…as good as we both are, we're not invincible."

She kissed his hand. "I'll be careful," he said. "Every second of the way, I will watch my back, and in no time, I'll be out of there, I promise."

"There's something else," he then added. "If you…If you see either Joseph or Eileen, please, uh…if you can turn the blind eye. Or if you must not, then, at least make it quick uh?"

She turned her head to look at him. "I will do my best to not get those two killed, but if they're the last that's left I won't hesitate to get them out of the game."

He nodded. "I say that's fair. It's just…I told you, Joseph's dad took me in, and the guy…he's actually really nice, and well, the girl. Damnit they're all so fucking young." He hid his face in the crook of her neck, her hair smelled of strawberry lemon like it always had. He tried to remember that scent, so he wouldn't forget it. "Just please be careful. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

She turned her whole body around and then kissed him. "I will be the most careful I have ever been, Percy. Try not to worry too much." She then slipped out of bed and walked to the door. "I love you."

"I love you too," he told her as she left the room and went back to hers.

.

 **So that's this...**

 **Hope you enjoyed, please leave a review, favorite and comment, it's all very appreciated. The more this story gets the more often I'll update it, even though I'll put another chapter like, as soon as I'm done with this one. No biggie.**

 **Hunter**


	13. Part 2 - Chapter 12

**So, as I said in the previous chapter, here's the next one. I'd honestly dumb the whole thing if I had the time and I could, but I guess after this I'll take it slow. See, I'm making up for the month I skipped since my last update.**

 **So, enjoy this chapter as well, please...**

 **X-X-Part 2-Chapter 12-X-X**

The plane ride, she made sure to look as if she was terrified. If this was going to work, and she was going to give all these kids in the plane the scare of their lives, she was going to stick to her plan of craziness extreme, until the very last second. The Capitol might think she was insane, but they'd soon catch on, hopefully. It had all been an act. She also made sure, that when they injected the tracker in her arm, she flinched and cried out at it.

Then they were underneath the arena, and her heart was starting to beat loud in her chest and it was not an act. That was real, because like Percy said, as good as they were, they weren't invincible. Also, as much as she'd sounded indifferent to him when she had told him about killing humans before, she cared. She always did, and it haunted her badly already for those she had killed already. She didn't _want_ to add more to the list, but in this place, it was either kill or be killed, and she had no intention of dying. Not when there was so much she still needed to do. Not when she had _him_ to go back to.

She walked, with slightly more confidence than she had throughout the whole training time, or in the plane, down the long corridor until she was directed in a singular room. Her stylist, Matilda, was there waiting for her inside. A new outfit, different from the one she was wearing, waiting for her on the bed. She acknowledged the cargo pants and the leather jacket with a padded shirt beneath. She'd be going in a war zone, she concluded.

Matilda hurried her in, and then hugged her, her fragile nails on her shoulders. "Oh darling, I wish you the best of luck," she said to her as she pulled away. She brought her to the clothes that were laid out. "So this is what you'll be wearing. My guess is that the arena is going to be very hot, but the jacket," she was saying as she opened it up and she saw extra padding. "Is a bit of extra armor, eh?" She smiled kindly. "So, even if it does get hot, I wouldn't start undressing too much. Also, my suggestion, as soon as the cannon sounds, run away from the cornucopia. You know how to distinguish good food from poison. Work on that. And if you meet someone, run the other way. Winning is hard, but at least try to make it as long as possible."

She smiled at Matilda, and for the first time, it wasn't an act. "Don't worry about me," she said in her true voice, her true tone. Her true self. "I'll be the one walking out of there, you'll see."

Matilda's mouth was open, and no words came out.

Annabeth nodded at the clothes. "So, tell me if I'm right, but since there's so much padding everywhere, I'm guessing this is going to be full of obstacles arena, say sharp edges, and risk of dying just by walking through normal terrain?" she asked.

Matilda nodded, still speechless. "Yes, but you…"

"You'll see," she told her as she started undressing and then dressing up again. Everything was fit to her size, even the cargo boots she was given were right. And as thick as the material felt, it wasn't too hot, and most importantly it wasn't too heavy. She'd be running around a lot, and therefore she'd need to be as light as possible. She took a hair tie from the various assembly of it, and then tied up her hair in a pony tail, took another hair tie, and made a bun of it. Then another, to secure it better. "How do I look?"

Her stylist nodded again. "Like, someone who's going in there to kick ass."

The tube on their right hissed, and the glass moved down. She eyed it warily, and understood, like she had before guessed, that she'd need to go now. It was time. "Thank you," she said to Matilda as she embraced her one last time. "For everything. Hope to see you again."

Matilda blew a kiss at her. "Oh, me too, darling."

She smiled, and then stepped into the tube, the thing hissed and then it closed. She looked above her, to see a hole opening, and then she moving up, up, up and up and the light was blinding. But then it wasn't and she was looking around herself. Blinking to adjust her eyes. But taking in every single detail of the arena around her. It was rubble. All of it. It was a city, and they were in the middle of a square, with rubble all around them. Buildings, for as far as she could see. All of them rubble.

She smirked, and perhaps that was the first the whole of godsdamned Panem was seeing of it, but she wasn't the fragile girl she had played out to be. No, oh no, she was Annabeth Chase, and she was the daughter of Athena, and she would not be a slave to these games, she would not fall.

" _Welcome, to the seventy-third Hunger Games_ ," a male voice from a speaker all around the arena spoke. " _And may the odds, be ever in your favor!_ " Then there were numbers in front of her, on top of the cornucopia. Ten, nine…For every one, a cannon sound, firing.

She hunched her knees, place her arms ready to sprint. She saw the careers get ready to do the same. She smirked again.

 _Two, one_ …

She was off, quicker than the others. She was sprinting, and she felt like she could hold the world in her hands at that moment. It was wonderful. Then she was at the cornucopia, and her hands were wrapping around knives. She saw movement out of the corner of her eyes, and without hesitating, she threw her knife. Watching as it met its end at the heart from the male from one. His eyes widening in surprise. Then she was quick to throw another, it too meeting an end in someone. The girl from two. Then she grabbed more knives, two belts of them, and she was on her way to grab a bag when the female from four was in front of her. The other girl was first to try to shoot her with an arrow, she docked, spun and threw one of her knives at her.

She was dead too.

Annabeth then told her this was enough, for now, she would need to get out of here as well, and she doubted the game makers, or Snow, wouldn't be happy if she killed her competition all in the first hour. So she shouldered the bag and grabbed a sword with her one free hand, holding the two belts of knives in the other. Then she ran. Quick. Past other tributes trying to get through, but being stopped by the three remaining careers. Oh, she had made it hard for them, hadn't she.

As she ran through the rubble, she saw Jacob, running in her opposite direction, blood on him, and she could only wonder. Until she saw a little girl dead in front of her as she ran past. She couldn't judge him, she'd just killed three of them. Still, she hadn't thought it in him. To be honest, she had been ready to need to kill anyone left.

She stopped thinking about it, as she slowed down, and then stopped to a walk. She found a half-collapsed building and then walked inside of it. Holding one knife in one hand, and the sword in the other. Is there was someone in there, let's just say that she was ready to throw them a blade.

She swept the bottom floor, and figured, that if anyone of real threat wanted to kill her, they would have heard her and come after her. Instead, no one did, and so she stopped beneath a window, so that there was light, and she dropped the belts of knives, as well as the sword, and then the bag. She emptied it, checking for things that were in it. So she'd know what she'd need to find before settling for the night.

There was a torch, rope, an empty canteen, and then some dry crackers for snack, and matches. Technically nothing. She swore out loud and wiped her brow. Then she put everything back in the bag, as well as one of the belts of knives. There were six knives on each of them. She'd lost one, already, so it was eleven knives, which she doubted she'd need all. So it wasn't a problem.

One the one she'd left out, there were five. She placed two of them within her boots, in a position she'd since learned was the best, and then hid two of them with her padded armored shirt. One, she kept in the belt, and then managed to as well, slide through the sword, and then buckled it all up around her waist. Picking up her pack and then set out.

She had perhaps a couple of hours before it got dark, and once it got dark everything would be so much harder. So she walked, opposite of where the cornucopia was and searched for water. After one hour, she was found a tree line, which she found the oddest, but also the luckiest. She took out her knife, knowing, that there were probably others in there.

She walked carefully over fallen leaves and twigs as well as over dry ground. She felt it, searching for in which direction it got muddier, and after another hour, she found a small stream. Where she filled her canteen up, and then, gathered twigs, and made what she deemed a worthy representation of a tripod. She took the matches out and lit the twigs up, and then placed her canteen on top of it, lid open, and waited for it to boil.

It got dark quickly, but she didn't stop moving. She searched the bushes for berries, for edible plants, and put them all in her bag, before making her way back to the rubble city. She saw one or two fires and thought about going there, catching who it was, perhaps ending it quickly, but she found her feet carrying her the opposite way as them.

She'd killed three, today, and that was enough. Hell, she had been wrong in telling Percy she'd be able to do this easily. She wouldn't. Not unless there was a reason behind killing them. Otherwise. Gods, otherwise she was so lost.

She found shelter in one half-demolished building, and there she ate one of the packs of the crackers she'd found in the bag. And then laid her back on the wall, and closed her eyes.

She was awoken by a loud noise, like a song playing. She was quick to realize it was the anthem of Panem, of the Capitol, and she stood up to look out the window, up at the sky. To look, at who exactly had been killed today. She saw the male from one, and the girl from two. Both from three, the girl from four. Then both tributes from seven, as well as from eight. The girl from ten, and from eleven, and then both from twelve. That accounted for thirteen tributes. Which meant that eleven were still out there, and ten would need to die for one Victor to go home.

It also meant that Jacob was still alive and that both from five were also still alive. It meant that as much as half of the career pack was gone, there still were three tributes out there which she didn't know how she was going to tackle them.

She cleared her throat out, and then closed her eyes again, and tried to gain some more sleep. She knew she was going to need it.

-.-

Percy was sitting stiffly on the couch when the games started, his eyes locked on the screen, Genevieve and Elizabeth were there too, their fingers crossed, for the two tributes in there, representing their district. _Their_ district, not his own.

He didn't care about who died, he just cared to see their expression when they saw _her_ , in action. The true her. Not the one she'd been acting as, but the true Annabeth Chase, and he couldn't wait to see it, except he could, because she'd be killing people, but gods-damned that was beyond the point.

He just had to wait a few minutes, to see her, getting ready to sprint at the cornucopia and hear Caesar's voice, " _Here we have Annabeth Chase, seemingly getting ready for the sprint_ ," he said, confused, his commentator partner squinted his eyes at the screen.

" _Yes, indeed, it looks like—_ "

" _And they're off, and— oh wow, Annabeth Chase from district six is there first_ ," Caesar was saying. " _And oof, ouch! It looks as if we were all deceived. This girl— another one is down from her — she's more than she was letting on. Now all I'm wondering is what is the reason behind her faking it all, and I'm guessing, going so far as to get a five in her individual testing._ "

"What is going on?" Genevieve asked from beside him. "That girl…she was crying all her interviews, how?"

He looked at her, a small smile on his face. "I guess she's special."

They continued watching, and he was nothing but proud when he saw her judgment, and her smart mind at work to find water, and then food. Even more, when the camera zoomed in on a couple of kids lighting fires, and she decided to turn the other way instead of going after them and killing them.

" _I believe_ ," Caesar was saying over it. " _That Annabeth Chase has actually managed to play us all. I swear I interviewed the girl, and she looked as devastated and scared as she sounded. Now, we see her, out there, with possibly the greatest chance of winning. Amazing tactic on her part, to push everyone's attention off her and then go in for the win as no one is looking. Perfect plan, with perfect acting as well._ "

" _I need to agree_ ," his companion said. " _The careers were focused on other opponents that she managed to slip through and already kill half of them. This is more than many have done. Except that well, last year's Victor, he also had a strong start. Offing two of them in the first minutes._ "

He stood up then and walked off.

He couldn't hear them, he couldn't listen to them talk about his win like it was some amazing victory or achievement. He couldn't bear it. Because their faces still stuck in his head like a crazy nightmare that would never end. Every time he closed his eyes he was there again, either in that arena or in a crazy dungeon, either time, he was suffering, mentally physically. It was all mixed by then, and he hated all of it.

He sat on his bed, with his face in his hands, as he tried to calm down because he was erratic. Irritable. He was on the verge of breaking and bursting the whole pipe-work system of the whole city, or simply flooding it all, but then what. Would Annabeth be killed? Would he be able to make it a mile outside the city, before Gaea found him, and had him chained up in her dungeon again?

Right now, he was still her prisoner, and although he was physically more free, mentally, he couldn't go anywhere. He couldn't do anything against what they wanted that either he or she would pay for it. Even tonight, he had a client, and there was no reward for him, except the thought that Annabeth, inside that fucking arena, was safe, and that she wasn't going to die because he didn't please someone enough.

He sneaked out of their floor apartment, and while making his way down in the elevator, it stopped at the fourth floor and another male entered. He recognized him immediately through his red hair. It was an awkward tension that suddenly settled in the elevator. Finnick, didn't look so good, after all, he guessed he'd just seen one of his tributes die, by the hands of one who had looked least likely.

"I'm sorry for the uh, girl," he said, and he wasn't sure why. Perhaps because they were setting off to go do about the same thing, and because he didn't want to imagine how it would feel like when one of his own two tributes died as well.

Finnick shrugged, and perhaps it was real, perhaps it was fake, he didn't catch it. "I've seen more die," he said monotone. Then he chuckled. "At least they're all quick." He wasn't sure whether he was talking about the boy he'd almost tortured last year or the girl Annabeth had killed today. Or the girl he'd killed last year. Gods, he was just now realizing he'd killed both from four last year and he was talking to the man who'd been their mentor. Gods.

"Well, they're the games," he said, as the door of the elevator opened, but neither of them stepped out of it. "It's either kill others or you get killed."

Finnick smiled, dimples showing. "I've killed in more brutal ways than you, Percy, you don't need to do whatever you're doing. We're all killers in this tower. All of us. None the better of the other." Then he stepped out of the elevator. "Hope you enjoy your night, I'm sure I won't."

He nodded. "I won't either, but good luck to you." They both started walking towards the exit of the tower when he added. "Do you want to, perhaps, I don't know, grab something together. Someday. This week?"

Finnick stopped walking. "I'm not gay, first of all," he said which earned a small chuckle from both of them. "But yeah, sure, why not."

He smiled. "I'm not either, for your information," he told him. "Just, I feel like we could be friends, perhaps."

Finnick chuckled. "First time we talked, you kind of sent me to hell."

"Change of heart."

And that was that. They both walked out and then walked their different directions. To places, neither of them wanted to end up in, but they had no choice. After all, it was either that or the people they loved most would pay for it. It was a continuous cycle of blackmail, which would never end unless Snow ended. Unless this dictatorship that was Panem ended. These people deserved to know there was more out there.

.

 **I'm happy I'm getting this chapter out there today, because ooh _Finnick_! Boy, that character is so...it's one of my faves not gonna lie. Actually, he is my fave and the heartbreak when he died was very real. Very, very real because it was all so well done. It was so well done, I loved it. All of it, his character development. You can be sure there'll be more of him in this fic. After all, it's Finnick, he will come up more, especially once we get to Part 3. **

**Anyways: Review! Follow! Favorite!**

 **Hunter**


	14. Part 2 - Chapter 13

**Hey, long time no see.**

 **Enjoy this please:**

 **.**

 **X-X-Part 2-Chapter 13-X-X**

The next day, she was woken up with very sharp pain shooting up her arm. She was on her feet in seconds, but the blood was already flowing and sliding down her arm. She looked in front of her, to see a girl, the one from nine if she was correct, holding a knife — _her knife_ — in her hands, and there was blood on it. She looked down at her arm, to see a nasty gash run across it. Enough blood flowing out of it, that she knew she would soon pass out if she didn't treat it. But there was the girl, and she saw only one way in which the situation ended.

She raised her hand up, "Calm down, now," she said. But the girl did the opposite. She charged at her and she fell backward, hitting her head slightly on the floor below.

The girl held the knife at her throat, and Annabeth, with one hand, was holding it away from it. She rolled them around, so that she was on top of the girl, and then she yanked the knife out of her hands. She raised it, but she hesitated. She didn't _want_ to kill the girl, but…if she let her go, the girl would try to kill her instead. "Why'd you do this?" she demanded of her. Then she plunged the knife deep in her chest. "Damnit!" She exclaimed as she rolled off her, and left the knife there. She didn't want it. A cannon sounded.

She dropped the bag off her shoulders carefully, and then, she slid her jacket off. Padding my ass, it had done nothing to protect her arm from the knife. And as she now saw it clearly, it was nasty too. She took her canteen out and then washed the wound. Taking her jacket, she ripped the sleeve, and then, wrapped it around the wound. Pulling the rest of the jacket on, and then getting out of there.

She needed to find a better place to find shelter for the next night, somewhere where she wouldn't wake up and find that someone had taken a go at her arm. Damn it. She was so mad, and so, guilty. Her whole body was shaking and almost, gods, her eyes were unfocused and she stumbled as she walked towards the tree-line from the day before. She was _upset_ about killing that girl. Even though she had tried to kill her and perhaps it was both of those things put together.

A fourteen-year-old had tried to kill her, and she'd killed her instead, how messed up was that. Percy was _right_. Damnit what had the world come to if he was right and she had been so completely oblivious to it? He'd told it wasn't so easy, that it was going to break her, she hadn't fully understood how much until now. Because sure, she'd killed before, but that had been so much different. Those people had _chosen_ their side. These kids…they had no choice whatsoever about whether they were here or not. And killing others was the only way that they could get out.

She wiped away a tear.

She was almost to the river when she heard the rustling of leaves and twigs breaking behind her and she turned around sharply, her sword raised. Only to see Jacob standing there, looking better than her. He had a weapon as well, it was like a scythe, she wondered how he managed to get it. He raised it in front of him, as he saw her sword. His eyes traveled to her arm, and then back to her face.

"You're gonna kill me?" he asked, and he sounded so defeated.

She shook her head. "No," she said, dropping the sword, and then dropping to her knees. "Gods no." He lowered the scythe and then walked to her. She looked up at him. "I saw you killed one yesterday."

He nodded his head as he crouched down and then started unraveling the jacket sleeve she'd used as a bandage around her right arm. He had a back pack. "Yeah," he said as he looked around them. They were in the middle of bushes, and so low, she doubted anyone could see them. "I bet the three careers were you."

"Yeah," she said to him. "What are you doing?" she then asked, noting he'd taken off his pack, and then he was searching inside of it. He brought out a needle, and then a thread. "No," she told him, putting her hand on his. "I can't let you help me."

He shook her hand away. "Look, Annabeth, I don't believe for one second that I'll walk out of here. I'm rooting for you, and so is everyone else back home, alright. You're a good fighter, but if your arm is like this, you're no good then, eh. Then how're you going to get back to _him_?" A pang of pain hit her across the heart at that. Fuck the Capitol, fuck Snow. She was going to win.

"You're a good person Jacob," she said, and her voice broke slightly. "I promise, that if I win, I will do something about all this. I swear it." She'd already sworn it to Percy. She was going to do it.

He smiled. "I trust you will," he said as he started sewing her arm back together. "But what happened anyway? It's pretty nasty."

"I was sleeping, and this girl, from nine, she tried to have a go at me in my sleep. I woke before she hit me properly, so she hit my arm instead."

"She's dead? I'm guessing the cannon that sounded a while ago was her?"

She nodded. "I didn't want to, Jacob."

He nodded as well as he finished off the sewing, and then closed off the thread. "I know," he said as he started packing his things. Then he stood up. "I wish you the best of luck," he told her then, and he was gone. And she passed out.

-.-

Percy was there in the lounge the next afternoon after their dinner, watching the games with Genevieve and Elizabeth. He'd been there down stairs, with sponsors and other men and women, when Annabeth had been shown to have woken up, and then that mess with the girl from nine had occurred. He hadn't been the only one to see her cry.

Then the meeting with the boy from six had occurred, Jacob, his name was, and he had been so thankful because his heart had been about to explode at seeing her hurt. And the guy had helped her, telling her to keep going and to make things right. He had _helped_ her and that was enough. He'd owe him forever.

But he was in the lounge, on floor five, when Annabeth woke up again, probably because of hunger, as she had not eaten anything for the whole day, and stood up, a bit groggily, to make her way, to what seemed to be the direction of the stream she'd found the day before. When again, there were noises of another person being there, and the camera directors were smart, they didn't show to the audience who it was. Instead of keeping it a secret. But whoever it was, it wasn't friendly, as they were still hiding from her.

So she slid the two knives out of her boots and gripped them tightly in her hands. And when the leaves to her right ruffled, and they all heard the twigs breaking, she threw the knife. Her left arm wasn't as accurate as her right, but it was still damn good. Next thing they know, the camera is zooming in on Eileen, and the little girl, from his district, is screaming as she falls to the ground. The moment she hits the ground, the cannon sounds, loud and eerie.

Elizabeth yelped. "Oh my goodness," she squeaked. "Poor, poor girl."

Genevieve buried her face in her hands and stopped watching. He, on the other hand, was glued to the screen as Annabeth jogged to her and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who it was. Her mouth hung open, and her features frowned.

" _It looks as if the woman who got out the day before, to kill the three from yesterday, is not the same of today,_ " Caesar said. " _Annabeth Chase so far has been the only one to kill today, and it does not seem to give her the same feeling as it did yesterday. Could it be that her mindset changed? Or that she's only okay with killing careers?_ "

He barely heard what he said after. He only had his eyes on Annabeth, who dropped the other knife she was holding and stumbled to the body of the one girl she'd just killed. She knelt next to her, her eyes pretty wide. She wiped at her nose, then hesitatingly, caressed Eileen's cheek. " _I am so sorry, little one_ ," she said. " _I promise it won't have been in vain_." She bowed her head. " _And I'm sorry, to whoever's listening. For taking her from you._ "

He shook his head. But then Genevieve was saying something. "You're rooting for her, aren't you?" she asked him accusingly. "For that Annabeth." He looked at her a bit defensively. But she carried on. "I bet, that this _Anna_ , you talked about last year, that's her isn't it."

Elizabeth got in between that. "I'm sorry, how can it be? Percy here as well as you are from five. The girl is from six. There's no way—"

"Yes," he said, and he didn't know how much of a bomb he was dropping when he said it. "Yes, she is. Truth is, I've known her, for the past…" He tried to do the math, but at the moment he couldn't. "I don't know how many years, and I love her. More than you could ever know." He knew he wasn't making any sense to them. "And I know it's hard to believe because we're from two different districts, but it's true. And I am _devastated_ to see that Eileen got killed today, but, there's only one Victor. And to become the one, twenty-three others must die for it. And to see _her_ back here, alive, I am ready to see twenty-three others die. If it must be at her hand then so be it."

Genevieve, he noted, was crying softly. "How can you say that?" she asked him, wiping away the fallen tears.

He wanted to tell her everything because he wanted her to understand that he wasn't a heartless bastard, but that he had lost too much already for it to hurt him as much as it hurt her. He wanted to tell her that Annabeth was the only thing tying to his real life, and that she was, therefore, the most important person in this whole country. Wanted to tell her a whole let.

"Just trust in the fact, that if I told you, Snow would kill me, and he would kill Annabeth as well, and everyone who was related to me," he told her as a warning as he stood, and then he left, but this time, instead of going to his room like he had the day before, he took the elevator down, and made his way to the lounge on the bottom floor. They showed the games there as well, and there were other _mentors_ there as well.

He walked to the bar, keeping one eye to the screen showing the games, and ordered something alcoholic, and something hard as well. He needed to just…shove down whatever he was feeling.

So he sat at the booth, and then his first glass arrived. He spent hours there, his eyes glued on the screen, one hand on a glass of liquor. Long enough, that at one point he was the only one left there, with the bartender, who was an avox. So no-one to talk to, in other words.

The only time they showed Annabeth was when she was getting water to drink, and one other time she seemed to have managed to catch a squirrel. The rest of it was a show of what each of the other tributes was doing to settle for the night. Then just before midnight, the elevator opened and he turned around to see who it was. His muscles flexed when he saw a muscular man, the mentor from one, step through. _Gloss_. Their eyes met for only seconds, and then he was gone.

Minutes after, the elevator opened again, and this time his muscles relaxed. It was Finnick again. When he saw him, the male from four approached him and sat at the booth with him. The avox disappeared, giving them privacy. Finnick grabbed his glass and looked at the content inside. He chuckled, his dimples showing. "I see you're taking your girl's death worse than I was."

He took his glass back. "It's not why I'm drinking," he said as he gulped down all of what had remained in the glass.

Finnick crossed his arms. "Then why are you?" he asked, as he then looked at the screen.

"I miss my girl," he told him, and he saw something in Finnick himself fall a little. "And I hate all of this, with a big passion."

Finnick nodded, but before he could say anything, the anthem of Panem played, and the two girls Annabeth had killed were shown in tribute of their deaths. Finnick nudged his head at the screen. "I'm rooting for that girl," he said. "That, _Annabeth Chase_. I think you are, too."

He eyed Finnick but then he nodded his head. "I am," he agreed. "She's…she's got it."

Finnick smiled, and then slapped his arm as he stood. "Well I got places to be, and if I'm not wrong, I think you do, too."

He chuckled darkly. "Know me so well, eh?" he said as he slid off the high chair. "But I don't know how happy she'll be that I show up so drunk." He took his first step and stumbled, but Finnick held him up and prevented him from falling face first to the floor. "Thanks."

-.-

The next few days passed slowly, for both the tributes inside the arena and those watching outside of it. Those at home, their hearts beating frantically every second of the day, and the families, never knowing when their child would be next, almost got heart attacks every time their child was up on the screen. It was terrifying.

On day three, no one died. On day four, only one died, the male from eleven. Then on day five, the male from nine. And no one again on day six.

This left seven tributes inside the arena, and only one of them would walk out of there alive.

The female from one. The male from two as well as the male from four. The male from five somehow was still alive, as well as both from five. And then lastly, the male from ten. The three males from five, six and ten had formed an alliance so that only left the female from six on her own.

-.-

Annabeth was searching for them, the careers.

She was tired, four days had passed with nothing happening to her specifically, and it had been enough time for her to come to full terms that she would need to kill to get out of the arena. She couldn't wait until their either killed each other, hunted _her_ or died of some other cause. She wanted to get out of the arena, and she wanted to get out _now_.

So she looked for them, walking with purpose, one hand on the sword and the other ready to reach for the knife in her boots or the one at her waist or on her body elsewhere. She was ready to kill willingly, especially the careers, and if that then left her and the three boys from five, six and ten, then so be it, she'd need to kill them as well. But there could only be _one_ Victor, and she'd be damned if she wasn't the one walking out of there alive.

Luckily, it seemed, that she didn't need to find them because she heard the scream before she ever even saw them. And then heard the cannon firing. Someone had died, which she guessed, meant that the careers had found someone, and had killed them as well. So she started making her way towards where the sound had come from, and then unexpectedly, she heard another canon fire.

This meant there were only five of them left in the arena, and four of them, she'd need to kill to get out of it. Four of them, she could do.

But when she got there, gods, she stopped walking and hid behind the rubble of the fallen city. Her heart almost exploding in her chest. She had thought she could be able to do it if it really came down to it. Kill Jacob, but she hadn't been more wrong, and she only realized that when she saw him lying dead, and next to him, Joseph.

She hit her back on a rubbled wall and slid down so she was sitting down, other wise she might have fallen. She peaked her head to see what was going on, because there was fighting, and there she saw the male from ten fighting the careers. One against four, and she knew she should have stood up and gone there to help him, perhaps get more off the list, but she was frozen in place by the sight of Jacob's dead body.

Then a canon sounded again, and the girl from one fell to the ground. Quickly followed by another canon, and the boy from ten also fell. Dead. This left: her, the male from two, and the one from four. She kept quiet, though, not wanting to let them know yet, that she was there, that they were _so so so close_ to ending it all. That the games were almost over for all of them.

"Damn it," came the voice from the male from two. "Damnit!" he yelled.

"Keep it down," the one from four told him. "We don't know where the girl from six is," he said a bit worriedly. "She might be close, and we don't want her to know where we are before we know where she is."

Someone threw a brick, he guessed it was the one from two. "Let her find us," he said raging. "Then we'll just kill her and then it's us two, eh."

"Just keep it down," the four amended. "And don't underestimate her."

Then she heard them walking away, their footsteps receding. She peaked a look and saw them almost out of sight. She made a mental note to remember which way they went, but then she simply approached the four dead in a heap. Four teenagers, dead in the matter of a couple of minutes. She wondered, whether the people of the Capitol actually found such thing entertaining. If they did then they deserved hell and much worse.

She looked down at Jacob and knelt down next to him. He had helped her, possibly saved her life when she had needed it, and now she had been too late to help him. Hell, for all she knew, he'd been the first dead. She cried, and she wasn't ashamed about it. She caressed his head and pushed his stray locks behind his ears as she closed his open lifeless eyes.

She grasped his hand in hers. "I am so sorry, Jacob," she whispered, and she hated that all of Panem could hear her words. But they needed to be said, this last time she was going to see him. "But I promise, that none of those two boys are going to make it out of here. Thank you, for having faith in me. And thank you, _for everything else_. I won't ever forget you. I swear that."

Then she pulled him away from the heap of bodies and straightened him out. She straightened them all out and crossed their arms over their hearts. The same way the bodies of fallen demigods would be posed before wrapping them in a shrine and burning the bodies to the underworld. She regarded them as fellow comrades, even though they'd been on opposing sides, and only one of them could have left anyway. They had all been in there together, and that was what mattered to her.

Now, she needed to end it, though, and therefore, she would need to stop _feeling_ guilty about all of it. If she ever wanted to do _something_ about it, then she would first need to get out of there. And yes, that meant she'd need to kill the other two tributes. So she would. And then tomorrow, when she'd be safe, back amongst people, she'd cry herself to sleep for it.

She looked off in the distance where the two males had gone off to, and she started jogging. Sword in her left arm, and knife in her left, which was still weaker after that nasty cut she'd received. She ran after them, and she stopped only when she ran too much out of breath, after all, she needed to be ready to fight any moment.

It was an hour later that she found them, and they both turned upon seeing her. She threw her knife at the male from two, and surprisingly, it hit home immediately. But it wasn't fatal, the boy from two only fell to the ground groaning. The one from four didn't stand there like a chicken, and instead started running towards her, but she crouched, took one of the knives from her boot and threw it at him. The boy docked.

So he was then on her, his sword clashing on hers, and he knew what he was doing for sure. But she was better still. The boy hacked and stabbed at her with little skill, but knowing where to go to make it challenging for her to either parry or block the blow. He was attacking so much, with such brutal force and such quick pace that she found herself on the defensive most of the time.

She caught sight of the male from one trying to get back on his feet, and join the fight, and that was when the one from four managed to get a good hit, although with the flat side of his sword, at her. She fell backward. A fall which she broke with a roll. As she rolled she grabbed her other knife in her other boot and threw it at the boy from two once she was crouching again.

This time the cannon sounded as the male from two died as well.

The one from four, his name, Alex, she remembered suddenly, watched him for the moment he died, and that's the opening she took to take him down. She tackled him to the floor, and they fought to be the one who ended up on top. He managed to win, with his weight he pinned her down, and he grabbed her own fallen knife and was about to stab her with it when, with her hand, she felt the shape of brick in her hands, and she hit him in the head with it.

A hard enough blow that it had him sliding off her, and she rolling on top of him. The brick was still in her hand. She smashed it on his head, again and again. Until the cannon sounded, and… _oh gods_. She dropped the bloody brick and stood up. She barely heard the voice on the speaker call out: " _Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you. The annual winner, of the seventy-third Hunger Games._ " Because she was disgusted by herself. By the brutality of the way, she had killed the last tribute. She rolled off him, and then pushed herself back as a hover plane appeared in the sky and it slowly descended down.

When it touched down, there were men in white urging her to get in, and so she did. She sat down on one of the seats and then blacked out.

.

 **I don't know if you realize, that in _Hunger Games_ , when Katniss is viewing the footage of the previous year, the victor won by bashing in the other tribute's head in with a brick, and so I wanted to keep that, hence the whole last scene. :)**

 **I hope you enjoyed. Please let me know in a review and follow this story if you want to see more.**

 **Hunter**


	15. Part 2 - Chapter 14

**Bonjour, and welcome back to another chapter of In Another World. This is going somewhere.**

 **Please enjoy.**

 **.**

 **X-X-Part 2-Chapter 14-X-X**

 **...**

The music was too loud, as was the very tight dress she was wearing. This time it went all the way down below her knees, topped with high heels. Matilda had washed away the girl who'd brutally murdered a teenager, and put her in a pretty dress to cover her deeds.

She didn't have time to search for Percy, and she really wished she had the time to at least see him, hug him and kiss him and have him hold her as she liked it. Just to feel his touch on her skin. She wanted him. But there had been no time whatsoever. As soon as she had gotten off the jet, she had been pushed into a shower and then from there to her stylists, Matilda, who had dressed her up. Not even able to grab a bite, she was lead to the back of the stage as Caesar went through the highlights of the games with the audience and everyone watching from home, from the districts.

Then they were hushing her on stage, just as Caesar said: "Everyone, welcome back, Annabeth Chase!" and the loudest cheering yet happened. She smiled, for effect to the camera, and then hugged Caesar, for Snow. Going so far as to kiss him on the cheek. Then they both sat down on the leisure chairs. "Annabeth Chase, you are…a phenomenon!" he yelled out, and the crowd could only agree with what he was saying. He laughed. "You have no idea, how my heart _stopped_ when I saw you making a run for the cornucopia. When I saw you there _like that_. You were another woman!"

She smiled sweetly. "Yes," she said. "As you may have managed to guess on your own, it was all just a plan. A tactic you can call it. Where I didn't call attention to myself, quite the opposite in fact, and then opened everyone's eyes. I mean, no one was looking at _me_ when I ran at the cornucopia were they. The careers especially, they were looking at the older boys from other districts. They didn't know I was a threat until three of them were dead."

The crowd cheered, and she knew she was doing it right. Caesar laughed. "Oh, my but no one would have ever thought!" he said. "I mean you can hear me all the time just talking, and thinking about how I could have missed it. That beneath all the glamour and the crying and the kindness to you there was really a warrior beneath. A winner. A Victor!"

The crowd cheered again, and she really hoped they wouldn't. They should just stop. Because the more they cheered, the more she wanted to attack them all and kill them for _enjoying_ this. Them talking about how she had won over twenty-three dead teenagers. How anyone could enjoy such a sick show. Such a sick game.

She forced herself to smile. "And Caesar, you have no clue how happy I am, that I am here talking to you right now," she said, and there was more cheering. "Every second in that arena, my only thought was that I would be the one to win it. That there was no other way anyone else did. I wasn't going to die. I was going to win. And look at me. I'm here."

"And we are all very glad you are!" he exclaimed, to which the crowd agreed. "So tell us the details about it. First of all, where on earth, did you learn to throw with such accuracy? Those shots were amazing. Not one of them missed their target. It was always a pleasure to see such skill at work."

She forced herself to keep the smile on her face. _It had been a pleasure to see her kill other children_. Of course. "Well," she started. "It didn't always hit right though, did it. When I hit for Devlin, the one from two, it didn't hit right. And then well, I learned on my own. My mother built me a target range before she died when I was really young, and using kitchen knives I practiced until I was really good. She always knew there was a possibility of me ending up in the games, so she took precautions. She thought, that if kids from district one, two and four are allowed to train for it, then so should I."

"Your mother was very right," Caesar said. "And we are all glad now, that she taught you how to throw knives. After all, you would not be here right now, and Annabeth, you were the _star_ of the show!" The crowd cheered again. "But now…onto more of the games. On the first night you found shelter immediately and then went off to sleep. When you woke up the next morning, what was your first though upon seeing there was another tribute there, and she had tried to kill you."

"First thought was, I don't want to kill her but she's gonna kill me so I should," she told me and then stopped. "Then well, we 'fought'," said, making quotation marks with her fingers. "It was more like a brawler and I think you can easily see my hesitation. I didn't _want_ to kill her, but there was no other way that the situation would have ended. Either me or her dead. And I wasn't going to let anyone kill me if I could help it. I went in there to win. Not to die."

The crowd cheered again. It was, it seemed, it could do. Caesar laughed his laugh. "We did see the hesitation, we even _heard_ it. But for me, one of the most beautiful things was the connection you had from fellow district six tribute. Jacob. You met him in the bushes, and he helped you with your injury. What were you thinking then."

"That I don't deserve his help," she said immediately. "But I will be forever grateful for it," she added. "I was thinking that I don't _want_ his help because when I'm going to win, I'm going to regret not having done more for _him_. That his kindness should not have been directed towards me, perhaps towards someone more deserving. After all, no one good ever wins the game, _do we_?"

Caesar laughed, followed by the crowd. "What are you saying, we love you! All of Panem _loves you!_ " he told her loudly. Then he quietened down. "And I am sure, we are all sure, that you deserved his help. After all, you won for both of you, didn't you."

"Yes," she told him. Which was true. But it also wasn't. She won for everyone that had been in that arena.

"Let's go on, still on day two, you also killed the little girl from five," Caesar read from his paper. He looked at her. "That, Annabeth, was one of the most sensational kills in the whole games! What were you thinking then."

"I thought," she started, swallowing soon after. "I thought, that if the person following me was friendly, they would have shown their faces, like Jacob had, hours before. Instead, they were hiding, and if they were friendly or not I had no idea. So I wouldn't risk the chance of them shooting at me, so I shot first. I didn't know it was the girl from five, Eileen, right. Yeah, if I had I would have walked away none the wiser."

Caesar looked at her seriously. "So you wouldn't have killed her? Not if she was the last one standing."

"At that point yes," she said amending. "But when I killed her she wasn't, and I believed that it could have been better."

He looked at her with a sad smile. "We _all_ share your sympathy," he said. "Now, onto the last day. It was packed, and when I say packed, I mean it. Six tributes fell that day. I'm guessing luckily for you, only two were by your hands. When you got there, in the middle of that, you seemed to balk, freeze almost. What happened? You seemed so ready to get on with it, to end it, but then you stopped."

She swallowed down the anger towards the man that was rising. "Jacob's family took me in," she told him, and the whole audience oohed. She clenched her hands subtly into fists. "So, even though I'd told myself these were the games, and I thought I was ready to see him gone, I didn't know how wrong I was until I saw him there, lying dead. Knowing I got there and there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. So I stopped, because going into a fight with your emotions out of control isn't right. It's dangerous so I let them pass over me, I let myself grief, and then, when I was ready, I went after them."

"And what a fight it was!" Caesar said, in a way that lifted the mood from the sad one she had set. "Pure skill brought you through as well as a survival instinct. But the real question is, how did you _feel_ when the last canon sounded, and you were proclaimed the Victor?"

 _Like I wanted to die and that I was disgusted by the brutality of my actions_. "That it was over," she said. "I'd won, and now it was over. That I won. I was overwhelmed. So much so, that as soon as I got into the jet I passed out. Only to wake up and well, work my way to get her now, I guess."

"And we are so glad you did. In fact congratulations, for your win, Annabeth," Caesar said and the audience applauded. She smiled kindly at him, but her knuckles were white. "What a game that was. Sensational. So tell me, now what?"

"I go home?" she said, almost asking it. "Back to district six."

Caesar smiled. "Any _someone_ back there? Waiting to see you again?"

And perhaps she was feeling a little bit reckless, but what exactly, was President Snow gonna do. Now that they were both victors in his twisted Hunger Games, what was he going to do to _them_? What could he do? Had he perhaps, made them untouchable, by letting them win their back to back games. Perhaps she wasn't feeling like caring about the consequences, she just wanted to be with _him_ in public, and everyone knows, that he was _hers_ and she was _his_. And no one else, no lady of the Capitol could change that. Perhaps even, it would stop the requests.

But Snow, could he kill them now under any type of pretense. Now that they were both expected to be there next year to be mentors. Now that even she had a Victor's Tour in six months. Would he kill them for it? Would he hurt him or her for it, and leave physical signs for it. She doubted it, and perhaps she should have talked about it with him first, but she took a very big leap of faith.

"Actually he's not from home," she said to him, and the whole audience cooed. She smiled too, but as sweet as it was, it was poisonous. "You know him actually," she said. "All of Panem knows him. And I mean, it won't take a genius to get it afterward. He's um—" Now or never. No going back. "—Percy Jackson actually," she said and the whole crowd gasped including Caesar.

"You are kidding," he said to her, whispering. "No way, you are _the_ _Anna_ he talked about." He looked shaken, perhaps too much. "You are surely breaking hundreds of girls' hearts right now. But how? He's from five, you're from six."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know," she said sweetly in return. "I'm afraid that's a secret, though Caesar. Perhaps one day I'll tell you."

He stomped his feet on the ground. "No way, tell us now," he said. "We all want to know how such a relationship could be born between two people, who live in such different places."

She kept on smiling. "Caesar, it's a secret, and I keep my secrets. _Even from you_ ," she said and he laughed. Followed by the crowd, like always. "What I can tell you, is that yes, my mother does not like him, and she was a really big impact on our relationship. It almost didn't happen because of her. She hates his father so much it was almost a no no."

Caesar shook his head, containing a smile. "Oh well," he said as he stood, then he grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet. "I'm afraid our President is waiting to personally congratulate you on the win." He raised her hand high above. "Annabeth Chase everyone. Winner of the seventy-third Hunger Games!"

-.-

When she got off the stage she knew that she need to get to the square where Snow was going to crown her in front of the whole of Panem, but all of that went out of the window when she saw him hurrying towards her. And she guessed it was _okay_ now, the whole of Panem knew. She'd told them. Percy Jackson was hers, and she was his, and he'd heard so it was okay.

She ran to him and wrapped her hands around his neck as their lips crashed and his own hands were on her hips. Then she was simply hugging him, just to feel his body, his warmth up against hers. He pulled away slightly and held her face in his muscular hands. "Are you crazy?" he asked her, whispering and there were tears in his eyes.

Gods she loved him. She shook her head, tearing up a little as well. "What can he do, Percy?" she said to him. "We're out here in the public, he can't _touch_ us and there is no one he can hurt now. I'm sorry for not telling you before but—" He stopped her by kissing her.

"I can finally let them all know you're mine, now," he said and he sounded so hungry. "I love you," he then added before kissing her again. Then he pulled away and stepped back. "Go," he told her. "President Snow will not be pleased by what you did, and if you're late…It's only gonna be worse."

She pecked him on the lips, and then hurried to very concerned and surprised and shocked mentors and escort. Off to be crowned Victor.

-.-

She was crowned Victor of the seventy-third hunger games in front of all of Panem, and she accepted it willingly. Then once she was in the tower again, she found her way to Percy and spent the night with him.

And the next day, she was forced to leave. Go back to a district she didn't want to go back to. Before she left though, Percy stopped her and took off his camp necklace, and in turn, she did the same, and they switched them around. Because six months were going to pass, at least, before they managed to see each other again, and perhaps that was crazy because they were wasting so much time, but there was nothing they could do.

 ** _-.-_**

When she got back to district six, she was welcomed back by cheering crowds. How long, she wondered, had it been since a tribute from six won the games. So she smiled, and she waved at them as soon as she got off the train, but when she saw the Lewis family she stopped and rather, followed the mayor down the hall until she was given a key, and then, on her own, with a bag on her shoulder, she walked to the Victor's Village and entered the third house on the left. _Her_ house.

It was enormously big, and too much so for her, as she was living on her own. Two stories, with really high walls. Three bedrooms, a huge kitchen, and an even bigger living room. Two bathrooms, and one huge ass studio which she had no use for. Then a closet, and another room which she didn't know what it was for on the first floor.

She simply dropped the bag on a nearby laying chair next to the bed in the master bedroom, and then laid on the bed, feeling the softness of it. Got under the covers, and then cried. Cried like she had heard Percy had cried that first night back. Cried for herself, for all she had let go off during the past week, the stress and the exhaustion of her body fully settling in her mind and breaking her slightly. She cried for Jacob, and for his family. For the other tributes who had died, for those she had killed.

She cried for the situation she was in, and her helplessness in it. She'd tried to leave once, and Snow had made Percy go in the games for it. But now, that they were both Victors, she was ready to push the limits, as was he. They'd talked it over, they were going to try to find a way out. Then in six months, when the Victory tour commenced, they would share in their ideas and possibly their failures.

The first two days, she didn't leave the house. Living off of whatever it had been stocked with prior to her arrival. Canned food, and dry seeds. It was only when it had run out that she decided to take a proper shower, and then get out of the house. She had more money than she cared to spend, and her closet was already full of clothes. Leather jackets, furs, woolen scarfs, warm pants, boots. It also had less warm clothes, such as flannels and simple shirts. For her first time out, she decided upon a white shirt, and then a grey flannel on top with simple jeans beneath.

She made her way to the market, a place she hadn't been in for the past two weeks now. She didn't know she had missed the chaos of it until she was standing in one of the many entrances to it. It was crazy, people were still going about their random businesses as nothing had happened. Like twenty-three kids didn't die the week before, and it disturbed her. Not because they were already back to their lives, but rather because they were _used_ to it. This had already happened _seventy-three_ times. Most of the population within both the districts and the Capitol had been born with this system around them. Accepting it as the norm.

What would happen, she wondered, if they decided that it wasn't the norm anymore. What would they do, if there was someone, who told them, 'stop, rise, and fight back'. She wondered, and perhaps, one day, if she was both misfortunate as well as lucky, maybe she'd see it happening. A rebellion for these people, and if she was still there by then, if she and Percy still hadn't managed to find a _way out_ , then they would help. She put her mind to good use for it, like she knew he'd put his powers to good use.

She made her way through the market with her head down. Her hair was loose around her head, falling down her shoulders in curls, and she was starting to regret that choice. She might have been better off to pull them up in a bun since the heat of the summer was really getting off on her. She didn't let it bother her too much, a she made her way to the fruit vendor and bought a couple of oranges, as well as a couple of apples. Just a couple, because it was only her that was going to eat them. She had no one else there now, her only friend was dead.

She made a full trip as she was out. Buying some oats, and milk, and meat and rice as she was at it. She also passed by a bakery and bought some bread and then, she made her way back to the village, and locked herself back in the house she'd _won_. She barely managed to put away the groceries she'd bought before collapsing on the bed again, and falling asleep until the next day.

-.-

Two months after the games, Percy believed it was time to brave something he might end up forever regretting. But he would never know if he'd regret it unless he tried it. And who knows, perhaps it'd end up good and he'd actually find a way, and then this _nightmare_ would be over. Perhaps he could find a way back to his own world. Off Panem, and back in the real world. Back where gods and goddesses were real and they were being hunted. Where demigods existed and they were fighting for survival. If Gaea hadn't wiped them out by now, but he believed that she would taunt him with the information if it had happened.

So one day, upon visiting the mayor as the man thanked him for his efforts alongside Genevieve to mentor the tributes of year seventy-three, he got sight of a map of all of Panem and saw where they laid in it. That district five was right beneath district four, and that below it was ten. He also saw that six was on the other side of the country, which meant he could never hope to reach Annabeth, that if he did find a way out, then he'd have to wait for the victory tour before seeing her again and telling her about it. But he was willing to brave it. He was willing to ruin a lot of his life in the district to _try_ to at least get out. He'd been a prisoner for too long, he wanted an out.

Once he'd gotten back to his house, he had drawn the map out on a piece of paper and tried to then come up with an idea, but knowing Annabeth had always been the one for the plans, he went with the silliest thing. Go by sea, and swim until he couldn't anymore. If they were still in America, he would then either end up on the Asian continent or swim across the Atlantic to Europe. If he wasn't, then he'd still somehow find land. And he would, because as long as he was alive, and his powers flowed through his veins then he could manage something like that. It would take days for sure, but he could manage it. Stay at the bottom of the sea, and just swim in a straight line with the aid of the waters, until he reached another land. Until he got out. Then, he'd go back in and find _her_ , and then he'd take them both away. End the war with Gaea, come back, and kill Snow.

He thought that was a sound plan, and of course, he would.

So one day, completely without prior training, he made his way to the beach on foot, and with Riptide in his pocket and about nothing but clothes on him, he dove into the water with a big breath and started swimming. He willed the currents of the cool water to push him, to aid him in his speed and in his mission to reach another land. So he went on, and on, and on and on.

He spent days in the water. Killing some fish for food, and simply using the water around himself to energize himself to keep going. Days and more days, which turned out to be a week before he found something, but it had not been something he had looked for. No, instead of finding land or some sort of some _thing_ , he found a barrier. One like the ones that kept the arenas enclosed. Electromagnetic that the moment he touched it, he was sent spiraling backwards into the deep ocean, the blunt force of it, knocking him out.

When he woke up, he wasn't in the ocean anymore, instead, he was lying on a thin cot, in a room which was humming too much to be good for it. As he tried to stand up, frantically, he got to realize that his hands were strapped down at the sides, as were his ankles. Panic immediately filled him, because, oh gods, what had he done, but no pain, as he had been used to, followed. Nothing but silence except for the beeping of the machine that was connected to him, revealing his racing heartbeat.

So he managed to calm down on his own, and then as if manually, something was pushed into his system, like some sort of drug, and he fell asleep again.

The next time he woke up, he was still in the same room, on the same cot, but his arms and ankles were free of the straps that had held him down before. He realized, as he woke up, that the humming was because they were in a jet. His eyes quickly opened and his franticness evaporated into nothing as his eyes set on the person sitting on the chair in front of his cot. President Snow.

He nearly got a heart attack. It wasn't nice to wake up next to that man. Never had been, and never would be. He sat up, letting his feet dangle off the bed to see that there was some sort of strap around his left ankle. He looked at it oddly. Then he looked at Snow, at his snake like features.

"Consider yourself under watched house arrest," the President told him with a sick smile. He looked down at the strap, which he saw was really an ankle bracelet monitor. A tracker to know exactly where he was at all times. "Peacekeepers in your district will keep a constant eye on you from now on. Hope you'll keep that covered," he added as he pointed to the ankle bracelet.

He glared and didn't care about whatever consequences happened. "Why not just kill me? Why go to the trouble?" he asked him. "I'm certainly more trouble to you alive than dead, no? So why invest in me."

"You're not _my_ prisoner, Jackson," Snow told him for what seemed the umpteenth time. "Don't mistake me though. If it were up to me, I would love to kill you. You have caused me more trouble than you are worth, definitely. As is Ms. Chase, obviously." His eyes conveyed a bit of his feeling regarding the way he was talking about her. "But since you are here because Her Majesty wills it, I cannot kill you. Only keep you with whatever means. Both you and Ms. Chase are pushing the limits of that. First her, with telling all of Panem of your relationship, but that…I can tolerate. You, going off on your own, trying to what? Find a way out? That I cannot."

He nodded. "So what, I'm under house arrest now? How am I supposed to buy food to survive? I mean you expect me to live the next ten months in my house?" he asked him.

"Again, you are mistaken, Jackson," President Snow told him, "By the term house arrest, I mean a much broader area than simply the confines of your home. District five is your area, but you will not be allowed to step foot on the beach again, or outside the district's limits. If you do, I will be alerted immediately and if that does happen I will then, instead of allowing you such freedom, lock you in a prison and contact the Earth Mother that this isn't working. You have one last chance of it, don't waste it."

-.-

Jason could do nothing as the world succumbed to more and more darkness as the years passed. Could do nothing whatsoever as barriers to camp broke and they were forced to flee, only four gods amongst them to protect them. Demigod numbers had decreased, and they kept on going down. The gods…they were dying as well, with so little life force remaining on both demigod lives and gods' powers, he wasn't sure how long their race could last. How much longer it could go on until they all went extinct.

On the mountain, they'd managed to free the god beneath it, and it was his Giant counterpart that had taken his spot beneath it. Not that it had helped them much, both by getting rid of the one competitor, as Gaea had pushed Atlas right back under to free her son, as well as the fact that the god seemed to be weaker, and the missing of his son was definitely not helping.

Then the other god they'd managed to free had been Aphrodite, and as strong as an emotion that love was, the goddess herself had been no help. The only ones who were doing something were the other two gods, Athena and Hermes. Athena, who was keeping everything and everyone together, and leading them like the good leader she was. And Hermes, who was her second, and led small scale missions with the stronger demigods. The missions, for example, which had led them to free the two other gods.

Four gods were always better than two, but it wasn't enough.

They needed the powerful big ones. Such as his father, Zeus, as well as Hades. If they had them, then he was sure they would be able to regroup, plan, strategize well enough to hit Gaea and the Giants hard enough for them to manage to free other gods and then really plan out how it was going to end. But they'd didn't even know where to start in _finding_ the Big Three, less so, how to _free_ them.

Morales kept on decreasing as well, as Gaea got stronger and stronger, demigods and gods got weaker and weaker. And they were stranded. In a little valley in the mountains where the Giants had no hope of finding them. All around them, in nearby cities, villages and town, posters with their faces hung, with the word _wanted_ painted in red big bold letters. Humans, average mortals were after them and they had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run to but this last little place on earth which had not been touched by the earth mother.

What broke _their_ morales, his and Piper's, Hazel's and Frank's and Leo's was the fact that they still had no lead whatsoever, on where Annabeth and Percy had been whisked off to. Every encounter they'd had with the Giants, they'd had proof that they were still alive, but they had no clue _where_ they were. What was going on with them, what was being done to them, and such tore at them in the inside. Perhaps, with Percy at least, they'd be able to do more, his powers, he had seen, could easily rival a god's.

-.-

Months passed, and eventually, the victory tour rolled by and cameras showed up at her house, along with the Capitol escort, Angelica and her stylist, Matilda. They dressed her up for the screening, and then she was on the train, on her way to district twelve where she would need to give her first speech about the games. How they had taught her unity, and how Panem was all she cared about, and there were no thoughts whatsoever about rebelling against Snow.

All lies of course, but she wasn't going to say that.

It was hard in reality, harder than she had believed or thought it to be. Especially when in district nine she had to stand there on the stage and talk about things, as she looked at the screen in front of her showing the face of a girl she had killed. As beneath that, her family stood, crying, as if the pain of losing their child was just new. As if the pain of losing a child would ever go away.

She forced herself to say the words, again and again, and again, so she could convince the districts as well as the Capitol that she was glad and happy and proud to be the victor of the seventy-third games. That she had no regrets, when every time she stepped on the stage she wanted to vomit and go cry in a little dark corner where no one else would ever need to find her. She hated it, but it was like that.

Eventually, she reached district six, and upon getting off at the station she was met with the mayor, and next to him. Her heart warmed and her knees felt like jelly. Gods, what had the world come to. She had one hour before the speech, and as she hurried to embrace him, she knew she would be spending every second of it with him. With permission from both her Capitol escort, the mayor and the peacekeepers, who seemed totally fine with it, he grabbed her hand and led her secretly through district five until they were at his house, in the village of the Victors.

The moment the doors closed behind her, she embraced him tightly and didn't want to let go. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, as she felt him do the exact same. "I missed you so much," she said to him. And in her hair, he muttered a response.

Whatever she thought they were going to do, she had not guessed that he would have taken her hand and led her to his kitchen, where he put on a kettle for tea and had her sit down. He started talking to her in a hurry like he had a lot to say and little time to do so. "I tried getting out," he told her, and her heart skipped a beat for the hope that he had found a way to get out of this hole. "It's impossible." Her heart depleted.

She stood up, putting one hand on his cybernetic one. "What do you mean? How do you know?"

He turned to the kettle as the water boiled and then he put the leaves inside, closing the top so that the leaves could more quickly fall to the bottom of it. "I went by sea, used the currents to push me," he told her as he poured the hot liquid in two cups, and then handed her one. He took a sip. "I hit a barrier, and when I did I saw it, it went all around for as far as I could see, but I also got knocked backward and unconscious. When I woke up I was in a jet. With President Snow."

Her eyes widened. "What did he do?" she asked him, scared for a moment, except he was standing right here in front of her, so nothing too bad, she hoped.

He lifted his pants up from the ankle, and she saw the thick band around his ankle. An ankle bracelet to monitor his position at all times. "If I step foot on the beach again, or anywhere outside of district five, I doubt he's going to be as lenient as he was that time," he told her as he took a seat and motioned for her to follow him to it. "So I'm saying, there is _no_ way out. As terrible and defeating as that sounds."

"So what?" she asked, suddenly feeling mad. "We just stay here for the rest of our lives?" she demanded and she knew it wasn't right on him. He didn't deserve it. She also acknowledged that her numerous beads looked good on him. "We can't give up, our friends— our _family_ is out there. And they might be dying. Hell, they might be dead already."

"Annabeth we have no say in it," he said, cutting her through. "This," he motioned around himself. "We are not free to make our own choices. We're in a prison right now, in a dungeon cell, and the key is in Gaea's hands and she's miles away. We're prisoners just as much as I was before you came to get me. It's just that here we get to communicate with other people, make _friends_. The way out is to kill Gaea or Snow, or both I don't know. But not running from it. That's impossible."

"How can we kill her, if she's not here though," she asked him. "I haven't seen her since Greece, Percy," she said. "How can we get out of here, if we cannot kill her."

"I don't know," he admitted. "All I do know is that running away, _trying_ to, is not an option."

"What is?" she asked him as she set down her teacup and stepped towards him. Her hand rested on his cheek.

He grabbed it in his and kissed it, setting down his own cup. "Staying together, and relying on each other. When the time is right, I'm sure a way will pop up. I'm sure, one day we'll walk out of here. But I don't think that day is any time soon."

She didn't reply to that, instead, she kissed him, and all she knew was that he was kissing her back and that whatever thought had occupied her mind minutes before regarding an escape and a war far away from here, left her mind and instead her thoughts were replaced by pleasure and happiness of being with him. Staying with him and touching him, and feeling him.

-.-

The victory tour ended up in the Capitol where they all simply seemed to adore her, the same that they had seemed to adore Percy the year before. It seemed it didn't matter who won. The Capitol's citizens would fall in love with the victor until the next hunger games came up and another was crowned. Yet, she didn't get an invitation from Snow to tell she had to whore her body out or someone she loved would be killed, and she guessed, much of that reason was due to the fact that she had said it on live television with the whole nation watching, that she was taken.

The same could not be said by Percy, because he had also gone to the Capitol, he had told her when she had been in district five. He'd gone to the Capitol multiple times in the course of the past six months, and it was all because some of the _clients_ he'd had before, were paying Snow large sums of money for the pleasure of his company and well, his body.

But she could not be mad at him for it. Never could be mad at him for it. The only person responsible for his need to do such a thing was Snow, and therefore, every time she was put aware of one of those meetings happening, the surge and want to kill Snow heightened and it was almost impossible to stop, because Percy, in her eyes as well as anyone else's had been through enough, he did not need to go through _this_ as well. But every time she talked about it with him, he reassured that as much as he hated it, the people to whom he went to treated him well, and as much as he wanted to die every morning, they were good people. To a certain extent, after all, they were buying his body knowing full well that his heart belonged to another.

He told her not to talk about it though, that thinking about it too much made him feel disgusting, and like he was running around naked trying to hide beneath a leaf. So she didn't utter a word about it unless he opened the subject on his own. She gave him that privacy, and that sense of control about the situation. Because if she knew something he didn't like, was losing control, over a situation, himself, his powers, everything. If he wasn't in control like if she wasn't in control, he lost it a bit.

Anyway, the tour came to an end eventually, and she was sent back to district six, where after six months, she mustered up the courage to go to the Lewis family mansion and apologize. Apologize for all of it. She told them, that Jacob had wanted to form an alliance, but that she had turned him down, because she had wanted to win more than anything else, and that perhaps, he could have been the Victor if they'd formed that damned alliance. And then she thanked them like she should have thanked Jacob for it. Thanked them for his kindness towards her, and his bravery and his nobility. And that if they so wished it, she would give them money to cover what the income that Jacob could have one day started earning. That she was mere than willing to help them, in whatever they needed her in.

She was told that it was okay, instead of being yelled at like she had been ready for. They told her they were proud of her and happy that she had been the Victor of the games. At least it wasn't the male from four, Alex, who had won. They said they were very glad that _she_ was the one to kill him because he'd been the one to kill Jacob, and there was nothing better that could have happened than have their son's death avenged. And that what she did for him, after his death, had also been appreciated, not only by them but by everyone in the district.

They actually went on to tell her that things were getting tricky. Peace was a hard thing to sustain, and they felt that the little rope that was holding the districts under the rule of the Capitol was loosening, and there was nothing better she could have heard that day. They told her, that they wouldn't be surprised if a rebellion was soon to start. Where they also shared, they'd be the first to join the cause.

.

 **Oh, we are getting close, I'm getting excited just how close we are to the actual Hunger Games!**

 **This is fun.**

 **I hope you enjoyed, let me know if you did in the review section, and follow this story.**

 **Hunter**


	16. Part 2 - Chapter 15

**Hello and welcome back, this is slightly shorter than the usual, but it all fits well, so no stress.**

 **Enjoy it:**

 **.**

 **X-X-Part 2-Chapter 15-X-X**

 **...**

It started the next year, she was sure. Whatever the Lewis family had seemed to sense, to see coming, she was sure it began the next year. During the seventy-fourth hunger games, and lucky her, she was a mentor this year, along side, Bryce, the victor who had told her to shut up the first day on the train. Lora, was more than happy to give her the reins, and sit back, and stay home this time around. So it was her, on the stage as two names were called up from the bowls of names and two tributes, a boy of sixteen, Jason, and a girl of fifteen, Maya.

She wondered, as she saw them stepping up on the stage and stand there as Angelica finished her speech, whether one of them would follow her example, and win, or whether they were going to die like so many had died in the past in their place. She didn't want to, but she analyzed them, like she had analyzed the careers the year before, and looked at the way the walked, the way they kept themselves and came to the conclusion that odds of them winning were about twenty-three to one. So barely anything. She hated herself for thinking that way, but it was what it was.

She would still try to be kind to them, and help them, in whatever way she could.

So when they got on the train, the _dreaded_ train it had become, she found them sitting in the lounge car, next to each other, one looking more scared than the other. She sat in front of them and extended her hand out to them. "Hi, I'm Annabeth," she told them. "And I'm gonna try to help you, but this only works if it's both ways," she added.

Then the boy, Jason took her hand and shook it. "Jason," he said.

The girl followed. "Maya," she said, her voice softer than his, and less commandeering.

What her mentors from the year before had said, about the boy being more into it and the girl less so, seemed to be true for now. As scared as they both were, Jason seemed to be more stuck on earth about the idea that this was his reality now. This was where his life was headed and there was nothing he could do, or anyone could do, and she hated that more than anything. Whatever rebellion or whatever, that the Lewis family had talked about, she wanted it to pass now, but even she knew that it could not be hurried. It had to come at its own pace. Other wise it would all go to hell in seconds.

"So what do you guys wanna know?" she asked them, leaning back on the chair and getting comfortable. "But mind you, what I did last year is in no way the way either of you should tackle these games, okay. I had a plan, and I knew my skill. Is either of you good with a weapon, and you can be honest with me here, okay. That's one thing that needs to stick. We need to be honest, especially you to me, otherwise I can't help you."

"Where's the other guy?" Jason asked, looking at the empty seat that sat next to her.

"Bryce has a problem with alcohol," she told them, feeling no guilt for shit talking him behind his back. If he wanted their respect, then he should be here right now, instead of sitting in his room, drinking. Like she had seen him do. "He might come out, he might not. If you want to know things, I'm your best bet around here. He's a bit traumatized, I'd say."

"How'd you win?" Jason asked, his eyes boring into hers.

She smiled softly and kindly. "Well, did you watch the games last year?" she asked him in return, and when he nodded she continued. "I went in there knowing that there would be no way that I wouldn't walk out of there. I volunteered, knowing I _could_ win. That I _was_ going to win. I'd trained for it, I knew I was ready for it. My mind was set on winning, no other outcome fit well with me. So I did."

He frowned, and when she looked at the girl she found she wasn't even listening. "So…what? You just think you're gonna win, and that's that?"

"No," she said softly. "That's part of it, and if you don't have that mindset then you've already lost. The other part is being able to survive. Find food, shelter, water. If someone attacks you, then you should be able to fend them off and be the one on top. The one walking away, not them. Then the game makers also have a say in who lives and who dies. I didn't get any of their pods or whatever but take the year before, Percy Jackson, he was going too far off and they shot geysers from under their feet. He could have died because of it, luckily he didn't."

They didn't comment on the fact that she had said, one year prior, to the whole nation that she and he were together, and she was sort of glad. They didn't need a distraction like that. Instead, Jason kept on asking questions about the games, hers, and previous ones, which she'd watched in the year she had prepared for hers. And she did her best to answer her questions, going so far as going into details about every step of the way. She spent the whole afternoon, as well as the dinner, telling both of them that everything they did, from the moment they stepped off the train to the moment they entered the arena, mattered. That they shouldn't waste it as she had.

Then they watched the televised version of the reaping. Starting from district one, going down through to twelve. She smiled fondly upon seeing Percy on there but felt a sense of sadness when the girl was fourteen, and the boy was fifteen, and that their chances against the four career tributes from one and two were so low. Everyone's was. Except, as they neared the end, the male from eleven looked promising, and then…in twelve, for what she believed to be the first time, someone _volunteered_. It turned out, as her name was also said out loud, it had been for her sister, and she thought, my money's on this girl.

-.-

The next day they got to the Capitol and she was perhaps more excited than the two teenagers that were seeing it for the first time. Capitol to her meant that she was going to see Percy again. And seeing him again was all she'd wanted for the past six months. All she would ever want for all her life. To see him and be with him and touch him and kiss him. She needed him just as much as he needed her, she was sure. She missed him, all the time and every time she then saw him it was like a light was shining again in her world.

Both Jason and Maya were taken in by their respective stylists, and she smiled kindly upon seeing Matilda again and getting one straight back. So then she herself made her way to the tribute center and took the elevator up to the sixth floor, not yet trying to see him, she knew she would have her chance down at the carriage ride thing that would take place in less than an hour. At that time, she would need to take a shower, and then get dressed for it as well.

Her shower was quick and refreshing and then she was getting ready and waiting for Bryce to be done as well. When he emerged from his rooms, he looked better than he had for the past year, but still, his eyes were glossed over, and the way he walked gave clear indications that he was drunk. Really drunk. She wondered, what had happened, to cause for him to be addicted to drinking. That real life was so bad. She had nightmares too, but she didn't turn to drinking, why did he?

Together they made their way down the tribute center, and to the place where the carriages would take off. She was excited about that because finally, she would be able to see him again. And perhaps, get a glimpse of the girl from twelve. She had a good vibe coming from her. A good one indeed.

When they got there, _he_ wasn't there yet, and so they simply met up with Jason and Maya, and she suddenly felt so lucky that she hadn't been in _this_ game. The stylists had done a poor job at dressing them up. They were both dressed in matching flowing costumes that resembled the moon. With a crescent moons shape head piece wrapped around their head. She felt like it was based around space shuttles and space travel due to the moon theme. Not that nice.

Then she saw him, and her heart sped up while her whole body relaxed for the first time in six months. She wished the two tributes both good luck on the chariot, told them to keep their heads high and look alive, before telling them she was leaving for a few minutes and hearing a quick curse coming from Bryce. She walked over to him, and saw him too, excusing himself for the moment, and then he was walking towards her as well. This time they weren't running, this time it was as if they hadn't seen each other for a couple of days, and so they just met in the middle and his big arms wrapped around her body, and then she kissed him and they stayed like that for a minute or so.

Then the chariots were leaving the underground, and they were going on in the open, and she caught sight of the girl from twelve. She was beautiful, in her opinion, and her stylists had done both her and her partner justice in the style of their outfit. Twelve, as she had studied, was coal and mines. Their stylists had dressed them up in all black tight bodysuits. They perhaps looked the least ridiculous from all of the tributes.

Then, with Percy's arm around her waist, they both turned to look at the screen televising the carriage parade. That's when something caught her eyes, at the back of the line, where the tributes from twelve were coming out, their costumes were on fire, and suddenly the cameras were on their faces. Then they clasped hands and two tributes from the same district were raising them together. Presenting a unified front.

" _Now see that?_ " came Caesar's voice again, it seemed the man never got tired of being the commentator to these disturbing games. " _I love that! Two young people, holding their hands up! Saying, 'I'm proud, I'm from district twelve! We will not be overlooked. I love that. People are sure gonna be paying attention now!_ " And wasn't he just right.

She turned her head to Percy. There was something in her stomach, rumbling. "This is it," she mumbled.

Percy turned to look at her, brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head and simply smiled. "Oh, nothing. I just think they look amazing, don't you?"

He looked at her in a way that made her stomach rumble even more. "Come on, Wise Girl," he said. "What are you thinking?"

"That those two are special?" she said but it came out more like a question. "I mean look at them. That's fire on their clothes and they're just…their look is powerful."

He scratched his arm, except it was his cybernetic one, and she wondered whether there was fantom limb itchiness at that point or if he was just massaging it because it was hurting him. "I don't know, Annabeth," he said. "They look pretty normal to me."

She chuckled. "Yeah, that's because you're blind," she joked as she poked him slightly in the rib. Then Snow was on television and the mood got serious. "And there's the snake," she said gloomily. "Gods every time I see him I just imagine how my dagger would look sticking out of his neck."

He looked down at her with another frown. Then he shrugged his eyebrow, in agreement. "I see more my sword going through his heart, but I guess it's similar, eh?" he joked around. "I mean honestly, what are the chances we get the killing blow, though? If we even manage to get so close to him without then dying immediately after, who says it's gonna be us."

She kissed him on the lips and then said, with their noses an inch apart. "I'm going to do everything in my power that it _is_ me to kill him. Or you, either one of us is fine. But if someone else must do it, then that's okay as well. As long as that animal dies, I'm game."

He lowered his lips to her ear. "Treacherous words coming out of your mouth in such a public place, Ms. Chase," he said in a low voice. Then he pulled away and smiled. "Treacherous words indeed. I might need to teach you a lesson, perhaps, on being more subtle."

She opened her mouth, but she didn't say anything. Only grinned. "You will be the death of me, I swear," she said as she swung her arms around his neck. She kissed him again and this time it was long and tasteful.

He got deep into it as well. Then he pulled away. "Just come to my room, you know where it is."

She nodded. "I will," she said and then the chariots were riding back in, and so they pulled away from each other and respectively walked over to their tributes and other team members. She gave Maya a hand to step off the chariot and then smiled at them both. She had not looked at them, as all eyes had been directed towards the ones from district twelve, but she anyways pushed on encouraging words. "You were both great! Now let's go, a good feast, as you've never had, awaits you up in the lounge. So the sooner we get up there, the sooner you can get all this makeup off, and eat. Then off to bed."

And off to bed, it was. Early too, which she was only happy about, but she waited until well past ten before making her way down to level six, and then towards where she remembered his room to be. He was lying in bed when she entered. His shirt was off, but she doubted it was because of her. More because it was full summer and it was really hot.

She climbed in bed with him, and got under the covers, and then laid her head on his chest. Rising and falling with each breath he took. Eventually, it grew into more, where they were making love to each other, but that also died down and they simply ended up sleeping together for the night, her head on his sweaty chest, and her arms over his stomach, their legs tangled and his arms wrapped around her.

She hadn't _slept_ with him, for a full night, since before they'd gone off into Tartarus what now seemed like an era ago. Years ago. Four years? Three and a half? They'd been in Panem for three, and six months where he'd been stuck in hell while hell raged over on earth as well. So she was taken aback when at two in the morning, she was woken up by being thrown off his chest as he sat up straight, his head bowed, and his stomach rising and falling in quick processions.

She was there next to him in seconds, putting one hand on his shoulder, but because of that, he pushed her off, tackled her and wrapped his hand around her throat. "Percy!" she choked out, slapping at his metallic wrist with her hand. Then she slapped him in the face and that seemed to make him regain some sense of self. His eyes widening and he was rolling off her in seconds, getting off the bed and locking himself in his bathroom the next. She hurried after him. "Percy!" she said as she knocked on the door with one hand and massaged her throat with the other. "Come on, open up."

"Annabeth I'm sorry," she heard him say from the other side of the door. He was just there, then, on the other side, his voice so close to where she was pressing her forehead. "I didn't mean to, I swear."

"It's okay," she said, trying to swallow the soreness in her throat. "Just come out and we can talk about it." She hoped he'd come out. That way they could talk about it like two grownups. Solve whatever had gone wrong in his head to cause him to react like that. He didn't open the door, instead, she heard him sliding down against it. "What happened?" she asked, as she too got down, to be closer to him.

There was heavy breathing coming through from the other side. "I—" he tried. "I don't know I was having a bad dream," he told her hesitantly.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" she asked him. "I'm here for you Percy."

"I know," he whispered, but he didn't say anything more.

"I'm gonna go back to bed, Percy," she to him after a couple of minutes pass. "When you're ready to, join me."

She heard a small mutter of an agreement, and then she climbed back in his bed and closed her eyes. She was almost asleep when she heard the door to the bathroom open, and him slipping into bed next to her, and with his flesh hand, grabbing her gently. She smiled.

.

 **So yesh, this is a wrap.**

 **Hope you enjoyed. Leave a comment and follow this story if you want to read more!**

 **Hunter**


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